#I seem to be in the mood for spice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

corkinavoid · 6 months ago

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Thank you, @aceinacorner, for this gem:

You are the inspiration for

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 3]

[<- part 2 | part 4 ->]

Duke narrows his eyes.

He swears Tim was not in the Cave just five seconds ago, and yet, in the brief moment when Duke wasn't looking, he just materialized out of motherfucking aether. Smelling like Chinese food and holding a chicken skewer that looks so good that Duke's mouth waters.

"Can I have a piece?" He asks, the divine smell of food overriding the urge to ask 'where did you get it' or 'how did you get here'.

Tim nods, smiles, and hands Duke the whole skewer before going for the elevator.

Is it Duke's hallucination, or is he really humming something as he goes?.. Actually, that doesn't matter. The chicken tastes even better than it smells, and Duke is perfectly willing to keep his mouth shut in exchange for food.

You don't talk with your mouth full, after all.

~☆~

Cass watches Tim over the table. She hasn't heard him coming into the dinner room - no steps in the hall, no rustle of clothing or breathing. It's like the boy has somehow appeared right in front of the door out of nowhere before entering.

What's more, he seems obviously not hungry, picking at his food with an absent, if a bit dreamy, expression. Granted, Tim always picks at his food, but Cass can see the difference between 'Tim's mind is busy with a new case and therefore too distracted to eat' and 'Tim already had dinner elsewhere and is too full to eat now'.

The bags under his eyes are also not as dark as they usually are. Come to think of it, Cass hasn't seen him in a bad mood for a few weeks now, which shouldn't really be that strange, but it's Tim. The smallest of inconveniences can put him in a bad mood.

Tim notices her looking and raises an eyebrow.

Cass blinks and goes back to her plate. Whatever is keeping her brother happy, it deserves her full approval.

~☆~

Jason is... not so sure as to what is happening.

He did notice that Tim was really chill lately, but this is going a bit overboard.

"Did you spike it with arsenic, Replacement?" He asks, suspiciously looking the offered cup of coffee over without taking it. Tim - surprisingly, actually - doesn't react to the nickname in the slightest, instead giving Jason a deadpan look. Then, he brings the cup up to his mouth, takes a sip, and hands it back again.

Okay, well, that proves no arsenic, at least. It's still very weird. Tim doesn't just buy coffee for people, and he especially doesn't buy coffee for Jason.

"Am I going to owe you something for it, or what?" He asks, slowly reaching for the cup. Tim sighs.

"No. It's just a drink - my boyfriend loves it, and I think you'd like it as well," he explains with a shrug, and Jason is honestly too befuddled to ask about anything. Including the boyfriend part.

No, but since when does Timbers have a boyfriend? He sure hadn't mentioned anything about it to any of the others.

The drink turns out to be not coffee but something else, tangy and thick, and when Jason takes the lid off, it's green like Mountain Dew.

It does taste great, though, and later Jason considers asking Tim for another one. He hadn't had anything better in ages.

~☆~

Damian strikes through the last one of the training holograms, breathing heavily. And yet, just as the 'simulation complete' message pops up in the air, he hears a step behind him.

He turns around faster than a lightning, and-

Finds Timothy's neck at the tip of his katana, with his hands up in surrender.

"What are you doing here?" Damian sneers, lowering his weapon, and Tim swallows. Not because of surprise or fear, though, he clearly had some half chewed up food in his mouth.

"Inaccurate drop off," he says, looking Damian straight in the eyes, "I was aiming for the main floor."

He smells of Indian food and spices, and Damian almost sneezes.

"What do you mean 'aiming'?" He demands, but Drake just waves him off, heading towards the elevator up.

"No worries, I'll do better next time," he shoots a smile over his shoulder, "See you on patrol!" And with that, the elevator doors close after him, leaving Damian alone.

Drake has always been strange, but this is too much even for him.

Not that it's Damian's business. He huffs and starts the simulation over again.

~☆~

If Dick didn't witness it with his own two eyes, he would have never believed it. Alas, he did, and even though the swirling green vortex has already disappeared like it was never there, Tim, whom the strange portal just spat out on the floor of the Cave, is still here.

"What the fuck was that?" He nearly yells, and Tim looks up, a face of perfect innocence.

"What was what?" He returns the question, and Dick can't find the words to explain, so he just wildly gestures to the place where the portal has been less than five seconds ago. Tim blinks, "Oh, that. That was my date."

Dick chokes on his breath.

"Your date?" He parrots, hoarse and breathless, and Tim nods, like there's not a single thing wrong with anything that has just happened. "Since when do you go on dates? Wait, I thought you were engaged, you said it was cheating to date anyone else, even if you didn't know the spouse, you said-" he cuts himself off, feeling his own face slowly falling and his stomach sinking down in horror. "No. No, don't tell me."

But the shit-eating grin on Tim's face is already proof enough.

Dick clears his throat. Takes a deep breath.

Seeing that Tim is still in one piece, and, well, that he did just casually come out of a magic portal in the middle of the Cave, it's probably safe to say that it's not the first time.

And, judging by the mirth in Tim's grin, it's also safe to say he's been rather enjoying it.

Dick releases one long, loud breath and forces a smile on his face as well.

"So, how is it?" He asks, trying in vain to sound light-hearted, not suspicious. Tim's smile gets wider, and there's a glint of excitement in his eyes now, which Dick considers a good thing, all in all.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

~☆~

Bonus Scene (that somehow turned out longer than I planned)

~☆~

"Where's Tim?" Bruce asks when all the rest of his kids are already seated around the table for breakfast.

"At Danny's, probably," Steph shrugs before digging into the waffles on her plate. Bruce frowns.

"Danny's?" He asks. He hasn't heard that name before. Is that a friend of Tim's?

"Drake's paramour," Damian clarifies, not bothering to look up from his own food, and Bruce's mind comes to a screeching halt. He blinks stupidly, looking around the table and sincerely hoping it is some sort of a prank, but Cass smiles and nods, and Dick has an expression of pure exhaustion on his face, and Duke is huffing a snort of laughter at him for it.

"Since when-" Bruce starts, but he is suddenly cut off by a glowing circle that appears just a few feet away from them all.

It grows quickly, morphing into a vortex, a green and ominous tear in reality big enough for a person to walk through, hanging in the air a few inches over the ground. The space around it feels staticky somehow, and the color is too bright to look at directly, and it definitely doesn't belong to their dining room. But before Bruce is able to say another word or do anything at all, Tim steps out of it, his hair and clothes ruffled.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters upon seeing them all, and turns around, sticking his head into the vortex just as it starts to close. The vortex pauses.

Bruce is almost too stunned to move.

His kids don't share the sentiment, though, most of them not paying the portal any attention at all. Bruce would have reprimanded them for the poor awareness of their surroundings if he didn't notice how Damian simply glanced up at it before going back to his food.

They saw the portal. They just didn't deem it dangerous. For some reason.

Tim's face comes back out, and he turns to Bruce. His expression looks different than before: a bit smug, a little mischievous, and just a tad bit nervous.

Then, another head pops up through the surface of the portal. A boy - or at least they look like a boy - with snow white hair that floats in the air and bright, almost neon blue eyes. His skin is far too pale for him to be human, and- he has freckles that look like constellations.

For some reason, that's the part that makes Bruce finally resign to the fact that this is just how his life is. With breakfasts interrupted by green portals and otherworldly boyfriends - because who else might it be, really - before he even had his morning coffee.

"Hi!" Said otherworldly boyfriend grins and waves his hand. "I'm Danny, Tim's fiance," he introduces himself, and Bruce conjures the last scraps of his scattered mind to smile and nod back.

"Good morning, Danny. I'm Bruce." He has no idea what else to say; it seems like a bit late for shovel talk, but a bit early for welcoming speech.

"Would Young Master Danny care to join us for breakfast?" Alfred's calm, but still slightly amused voice comes from the door. Bruce turns to look at the butler with a sense of exasperation - is he really the last one to learn anything in this house? - but the man seems... well, not surprised, at least not on the surface. But his grip on the pitcher of orange juice is just a little too tense for him to have been in the know all along.

Danny turns to him and smiles nicely - his teeth are also way too sharp for a human - before shaking his head, "No, sorry, I was just dropping Tim off."

"For God's sake," Tim rolls his eyes, "Just put on some pants and come out, I refuse to suffer through this alone."

Dick chokes on his toast. Steph gasps, her eyes snapping between Tim and Danny in delight. Cass snorts and kicks her under the table. Damian groans.

"Spare me from the details of your personal life, Drake. Need I remind you that I am thirteen," he narrows his eyes.

The constellations on Danny's cheeks shine just a bit brighter, and Bruce has no idea what that is supposed to mean, but his guess is along the lines of embarrassment. Especially when the boy completes it with rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You mean to tell me that, at thirteen years old, you don't know what sex is?" Tim deadpans, running a hand through his hair in a useless effort to smooth it and taking his seat at the table. Dick's coughing fit comes back with renewed force.

"We didn't-" Danny starts, still kind of hovering midway through the portal, but Damian pays him little attention.

"I do. Yet, I prefer my mind free of the knowledge when it applies to you."

"I want all the details, though," Steph pipes up, looking at Danny from her seat, "Can you, like, sprout tentacles or something, because I know for a fact Tim likes that kind of-"

"Steph!" Tim yells at her, face red, and then turns to Danny, who suddenly has a very interested, if a bit mischievous, look on his face, "Don't you dare."

"Yeah, okay," Danny snorts and disappears back in the portal. Bruce half-expects it to close after him, but the vortex stays.

Which probably means the boy - the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, Eyes of the Universe - is going to be right back.

After he puts on some pants, supposedly.

Bruce watches Tim rub his face in frustration while Steph giggles and elbows him in the side, and sighs. This is so not how he expected this morning to be.

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vividseoultales · 13 days ago

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Me or You? ( Haewon x Male Reader )

tags : fluff smut

"You can't be serious," you said, trying to hold back a chuckle. Haewon looked at you with a mix of frustration and hope. She had been hinting at this for a while now, but you had never thought she'd bring it up so directly.

"I am," she replied, her voice firm yet slightly trembling. "I just want us to explore new things, to spice up our relationship."

Her eyes searched yours for a hint of understanding, but all you could do was shake your head. The thought of her as a dominant in the bedroom was amusing, almost comical, given her usual gentle and caring nature. But you could see this was something she was genuinely interested in, something that meant a lot to her. You didn't want to dismiss her feelings, so you took a deep breath and tried to approach the subject more seriously.

"Okay baby" you began, "I'm willing to listen. But why do you want to do this?"

Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as she fiddled with her fingers. "I've read about it, and…I think it could bring us closer, or at least add some excitement."

You nodded, stroking her hair to comfort her. "Alright, tell me more."

"Well," Haewon started, her voice growing a bit steadier, "I've always been the one who's more passive in the relationship. I want to feel in charge for a change, to see you vulnerable and open to me in a way you've never been before."

You could feel the tension in the room as she spoke. This was a side of her you hadn't seen before, but you were willing to give it a shot. "What does being a sub entail?" you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral.

"Well, it's about submission, letting go of control," she explained, her eyes meeting yours with a newfound determination. "You'd have to do as I say, follow my commands, and trust me completely."

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "So, you want to boss me around in bed?" You couldn't help but tease her, hoping to lighten the mood.

"I'm not joking," she said with a playful glare, though a hint of a smile played on her lips. "But yes, I want to see how it feels to take control."

You leaned back on the couch, considering the idea. "Okay, so let's say we do this. What exactly do you have in mind? Will I have to wear a collar and call you mistress?"

Her cheeks grew redder, but she held your gaze. "No, nothing so…extreme. Just simple commands and gestures. I'd like to tie you up, maybe blindfold you, and explore your body without you knowing what's coming next."

You studied her for a moment, trying to gauge if she was okay with this or if it was just something she felt she had to do to satisfy a curiosity. "Baby," you said gently, "you want this for me or for you?"

Her eyes searched yours, and she bit her lip, a gesture that was usually reserved for when she was more aroused than usual. This time, however, it seemed like she was more aroused at the idea of being the sub. It was a revelation that made your heart race.

"You know what, baby?" You leaned in closer, your voice a low murmur. "I think you're the one who's more curious about this than you're letting on." You reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Do you actually want me to do all of that to you?"

Haewon's eyes widened, and she tried to hide her arousal, but the way she swallowed hard and her pupils dilated was a dead giveaway. She took a deep breath before finally admitting, "Yes, I do. I want to feel…dominated."

You couldn't resist the urge to roll your eyes, a smirk playing on your lips. "Why the whole charade, baby?" you teased. "You could've just told me you wanted me to take control."

She pouted at you, her full bottom lip pushing out in a way that was so cute, it was almost comical. But it also had a hint of that sweet, innocent vulnerability that you found utterly irresistible. "Because," she mumbled, "I didn't know how to say it."

You leaned closer to her, your breath warm against her cheek. "Say it," you whispered, your voice a soft command. "Tell me what you really want."

Her eyes searched yours for a brief moment before she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I…I want you to fuck me, baby. I want you to take control, to do whatever you want to me."

You couldn't help the smirk that curled up your lips. "Say it again," you told her, your voice low and commanding. "But this time, on your knees."

With a look of surprise and a hint of excitement, Haewon slid off the couch and onto her knees before you, her eyes never leaving yours. The sight was unexpectedly hot, and you felt a stirring in your lower regions that you hadn't anticipated.

"I…I want you to fuck me," she repeated, her voice a bit shaky, but the words came out with more conviction this time. You could see the desire in her eyes, a raw hunger that was new and thrilling. It was clear that the idea of you being in control was turning her on more than you had ever seen before.

Without saying another word, you stood up and took a step back. "Good girl," you said, your voice a soft purr. "Now, I want you to make me hard, but you're not allowed to touch my cock with your hands."

Her eyes widened, and she looked up at you, clearly surprised by your sudden dominance. But the excitement on her face was undeniable. She took a deep breath and leaned forward, her hands resting on her thighs. You could see her mind racing, trying to figure out how to proceed.

"Use your mouth, your nose, your cheeks," you instructed, your voice firm and commanding. "Rub your face all over me until I'm hard as a rock."

Her pupils dilated, and she swallowed hard before tentatively leaning forward. You watched as she brought her face closer to your crotch, her breath hot against the fabric of your pants. The anticipation was killing you, but you remained stoic, allowing her to take the lead.

With a shaky start, Haewon began to rub her cheek against your growing erection, the roughness of your jeans a stark contrast to the softness of her skin. Her breathing grew heavier, and she closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of your cock growing harder with every pass of her face. You could feel her warm breath through the fabric, making you throb with desire.

"Good," you praised, the single word sending a shiver down her spine. "Now, take it out. But remember, no hands."

Her eyes sparkled with challenge as she leaned in closer, her mouth mere inches from the zipper of your pants. With a coy smile, she nuzzled against the bulge, her nose tracing the outline of your cock. You could feel her breath hot and wet through the fabric, and you had to clench your fists to keep from reaching out to touch her.

With a soft moan, Haewon began to nibble at the zipper, her teeth grazing the metal. You felt the zipper slowly give way, the sound of it descending echoing in the quiet room. She looked up at you, her eyes half-lidded with desire, and you nodded in approval. She had taken the hint, understanding the game you were playing.

Her hands remained firmly on her thighs as she leaned in closer, her tongue flicking out to trace the path her teeth had made. The anticipation was exhilarating, watching her explore this newfound boldness. As she reached the top of your jeans, she paused, her breath hot against your skin.

"How do you expect me to do that without hands?" she asked, a playful lilt in her voice. You smirked, enjoying the challenge she presented.

"Use your teeth," you ordered, your voice firm and commanding.

Her eyes lit up with a mischievous glint as she took the challenge, her teeth delicately gripping the fabric of your underwear. With a gentle tug, she managed to free your cock from its confines. You watched, entranced, as she licked her lips, her eyes never leaving yours. The power dynamic was shifting, and it was surprisingly intoxicating.

"Now, suck," you commanded, the words coming out more forcefully than you had intended. But the look of excitement in Haewon's eyes told you she liked it. She leaned in, her tongue tracing a line from the base of your shaft to the tip. You felt a jolt of pleasure at her touch, and you had to remind yourself to stay in control.

Her eyes remained locked on yours as she took the head of your cock into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing out as she began to suck. It was clear she was enjoying herself, her movements eager and hungry. You couldn't help but let out a groan of pleasure, the sound echoing through the room.

"Harder," you instructed, your voice a gruff whisper. Haewon complied, taking you deeper, her teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive skin. Your hands found their way into her hair, gripping it tightly as she bobbed her head. The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down your spine.

You could feel yourself losing control, but you held onto it by a thread, reminding yourself that this was her moment to shine. You watched her, her eyes closed in concentration, her cheeks flushed with excitement. It was clear she was enjoying herself, her body moving with an enthusiasm that was both surprising and incredibly arousing.

But as much as you wanted to let her continue, you knew you needed to assert your dominance, to show her what it truly meant to submit. So, with a firm grip on her hair, you gently pulled her head back, her mouth popping off your cock with a wet sound that filled the room. Her eyes snapped open, looking up at you with a mix of confusion and excitement.

"Beg for it," you said, your voice a low growl. Haewon's eyes widened, but she didn't hesitate. "Please," she whispered, her voice thick with need.

You smirked and took your cock in your hand, pulling it away from her face. It glistened with her saliva, and the sight of it made your heart race. You brought it closer to her, letting it hover just out of reach. "Beg louder," you instructed, your grip tightening.

Her eyes searched yours, and you could see the struggle within her - the part that wanted to protest and the part that wanted to submit. Finally, she opened her mouth, and the words came out in a rush. "Please, baby," she moaned, "please let me suck you off."

But you had other plans. You moved your cock closer to her eager lips, watching the desperation in her eyes as she leaned in. Just as she was about to take it into her mouth, you stopped her, pulling it away and smearing the saliva across her cheeks and nose instead. Haewon's eyes widened in surprise, and she gasped, her breathing becoming shallower as you painted her face with your desire.

"Not yet," you murmured, enjoying the power play. "First, I want to see how well you can follow orders."

With a smirk, you grabbed the base of your cock and held it firmly, pressing the tip against her cheek. Haewon's eyes went wide with excitement and a touch of fear, but she didn't protest. You began to rub her face against your shaft, feeling the wetness from her mouth smeared along the length of it. Her breath was hot and ragged, and you could see the way she was trying to keep her hands still, her fingers twitching with the need to touch you.

"Good girl," you praised, watching her carefully. "You're doing so well." The more you rubbed, the redder her cheeks grew, and you knew she was feeling both humiliated and incredibly turned on by the sensation. It was a heady mix of emotions that was driving her wild, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill of dominance at the sight of her submission.

You could see the struggle in her eyes, the part of her that was fighting against the urge to touch you, to take control. But she remained still, her breath coming in shallow gasps as you continued to smear your precum across her face. "Look at me," you said, your voice a low command.

Her eyes snapped back to yours, and you watched as she tried to focus, the pleasure and submission fighting for dominance. "That's it," you whispered, your hand still guiding her face against your shaft. "Keep looking at me."

The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Haewon's eyes were practically rolled back in her head as she moaned, the sound muffled against your cock. Her body trembled with anticipation, and you could feel her breath hitch as you continued to rub her face against your length. The smear of your precum on her cheeks and nose was a stark reminder of her submissive role, and she found it strangely erotic.

"Now," you murmured, your grip on her hair tightening, "make me cum, but only with your face."

Her eyes widened, but she didn't argue. Instead, she leaned in closer, her cheeks already wet with your desire. She began to rub her face against your cock more vigorously, her breath hitching as she took in the scent of your arousal. You watched her, the power in the moment making your chest tighten with excitement.

Her movements grew more desperate, her moans louder. You could see the desperation in her eyes, the hunger that was consuming her. This was a side of Haewon you had never seen before, and it was more intoxicating than you could have imagined. The way she submitted to you was like watching a beautiful creature being unleashed, all inhibitions forgotten in the pursuit of pleasure.

As she rubbed her face harder and faster against your cock, you could feel your orgasm building. The way she moved, the sounds she made, the absolute surrender in her eyes—it was all too much. You had to clench your fists to keep from grabbing her and fucking her mouth like you wanted to. But this was her moment, her chance to explore her newfound submissiveness.

With a few more firm strokes of her face, you felt the tension in your body coil tighter. Your hips jerked slightly, and you warned her, "I'm going to cum, baby." Her eyes widened even more, and she leaned in closer, eager for it. The anticipation was unbearable, your cock throbbing with the need to release.

The moment came, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You let out a roar as hot ropes of cum shot out, coating her cheeks, nose, and even reaching her forehead. Haewon's eyes closed instinctively, but she remained still, allowing you to paint her face with your seed. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of relief and power that had you seeing stars.

As the last drops fell from your cock, you pulled away from her. She remained kneeling, her face a mess of your desire, and you could see her tongue darting out, trying to catch any lingering traces of your cum. But before she could swipe a taste, you gripped her chin firmly, forcing her to look up at you.

"Not yet," you said, a wicked smile playing on your lips. "You don't get to decide when or if you get to taste it." Her eyes widened in surprise and a flicker of something that could only be described as excitement. The power exchange was thrilling, and she was clearly eager to see where this new dynamic would take them.

With a gentle yet firm grip, you lifted her chin, making her look up at you. Her eyes were glazed over with lust, and the sight was enough to make you even harder. "Ask nicely," you whispered, enjoying the way she squirmed under your control.

"Please," Haewon whimpered, her voice small and needy. "Please, may I taste your cum?"

You couldn't help but smirk at her begging. It was a side of her you hadn't seen before, and it was incredibly hot. "Beg like you mean it," you ordered, your grip on her chin tightening.

Her eyes searched yours, the desire in them burning like a wildfire. "Please," she gasped, her voice trembling. "Please, let me taste your cum."

With a smirk, you released her chin, watching as she leaned in, her tongue darting out to catch the first drops that had fallen on her cheek. The sight of her eagerly lapping up your cum was more than you could handle. "Good girl," you murmured, watching her every move. "Now, don't waste any of it."

Haewon's eyes never left yours as she began to clean her face, her tongue swirling around to capture every last bit of your essence. She took her time, savoring the taste, her cheeks hollowing with each swipe. It was a sight that made your cock throb with the need to be back in her mouth, but you held back, enjoying the moment of power.

"Good girl," you murmured, your voice thick with lust. You reached down and gently stroked her face, feeling the stickiness of your cum on her skin. "Look at you, so eager to please me."

Her eyes never left yours as she continued to clean herself off, her tongue moving with a hunger that was palpable. You couldn't help but notice that she was quite literally dripping wet, her juices leaving a small pool on the floor beneath her knees. The sight sent a jolt of desire through you, making your cock throb with renewed vigor.

"What's that?" you asked, pointing to the growing wet spot on the floor. Haewon's cheeks reddened even further, and she remained silent, her eyes darting down to the floor and back up to yours. You knew she was embarrassed, but you couldn't help the smirk that spread across your face.

"Looks like you're enjoying yourself," you said, your voice filled with amusement. "You're so fucking wet, you're practically pissing out vagina fluid."

The crudeness of your words made her blush even more, but she didn't protest. Instead, she licked her lips, her eyes never leaving yours. You knew she was desperate for you to take her, to show her what it truly meant to be a sub. But you weren't done playing yet.

"Clean it up," you smirked, pointing to the floor. She looked up at you with a mix of surprise and excitement, her pupils dilating even further. It was clear that the idea of being ordered around was pushing all the right buttons for her.

Without a word, Haewon leaned forward, her tongue darting out to lick at the sticky wetness that had pooled on the floor. The sight of her, so eager to follow your command, had your cock pulsing with need. You couldn't help but stroke yourself, watching her every move as she lapped up the evidence of her arousal. Her movements were slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving yours as she cleaned the floor with her tongue.

The sight was more than you could bear, and you felt your own orgasm building again. You whispered to yourself that you could cum just from watching her, but you held back, savoring the moment. You wanted to prolong this newfound power, to enjoy the way she looked up at you with such submission.

"What do you want, baby?" you asked her, your voice a low rumble of desire. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Her eyes searched yours, the desire in them so intense it was almost painful. "I want you to fuck me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Hard. I want to feel you take me, like you own me."

A shiver of excitement ran down your spine at her words. The power you held over her was intoxicating, and the way she begged for your touch was like nothing you had ever experienced before. You stepped closer, your cock now fully erect again, and placed your hand on the back of her neck, pushing her face closer to your crotch.

"Get up," you ordered, your voice low and commanding.

Her eyes widened, but she didn't hesitate. Haewon slowly rose to her feet, her knees wobbling slightly from being in the submissive pose for so long. She kept her eyes on the floor, a blush spreading across her cheeks that was almost painfully adorable. You could see the excitement in her body language, the way she held her breath as she awaited your next move.

"Take off your clothes," you tell her, your voice a soft growl. She nodded, her hands shaking as she reached for the hem of her shirt. She lifted it up, revealing her lacy black bra and the smooth, pale skin of her stomach. With trembling fingers, she unclipped the clasp, letting the fabric fall away to expose her perfect breasts. They bounced slightly as she let the shirt drop to the floor, and you couldn't help but admire the way the light played across her nipples, which were already hard with arousal.

"Good girl," you praised, watching her intently as she reached for her pants. She slid them down, her panties following, leaving her naked before you. You took a step closer, taking in the sight of her. Haewon's body was a work of art, and the way she looked at you—like you were the only person in the world who mattered—was intoxicating.

"Now, bend over the couch," you instructed, your voice still firm but with a hint of excitement. She complied without hesitation, her ass in the air, her cheeks red with both arousal and embarrassment. You stepped behind her, taking a moment to admire the way her back arched and her breasts pressed against the cool leather of the couch.

You leaned down, your breath hot against her skin as you whispered, "Spread your legs wider." Haewon's body responded instantly, her legs parting to give you a full view of her glistening pussy. The sight of her wetness was almost too much to handle, and you had to fight the urge to bury your cock in her right then and there.

Instead, you positioned yourself behind her, the head of your erection teasing at the entrance to her core. You watched as she squirmed, her body begging for you to fill her. But you weren't ready to give in just yet. You pulled back slightly, dragging your wet tip through her folds, collecting her arousal like a brush painting a canvas. She moaned, her hips pushing back in a silent plea for more contact.

With a smirk, you pushed forward, feeling the resistance of her tight pussy as it stretched to accommodate you. Haewon let out a sharp squeal, her body tensing up as you entered her with a single, firm thrust. Her wetness made the initial penetration easier, but the grip of her inner muscles was still surprisingly tight. You could feel her tremble beneath you, the sudden intrusion a mix of pain and pleasure that was written all over her face.

But before she could adjust fully to your size, you reached back and slapped her ass—hard. The sound echoed through the room, and Haewon's body jerked in response, her pussy clamping down around you like a vice. The shock of the impact sent a bolt of pleasure through her, and she came immediately, her body convulsing as a wave of orgasm crashed over her.

You had never seen her like this before. In all the times you've been together, in all the moments of shared passion, this was something new. Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, her mouth a silent 'O' of surprise and pleasure. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she moaned in a way that was almost animalistic. Her whole body was shaking, and you felt her muscles tighten around you as she came.

But you didn't give her time to recover. Your desire was too great, the power exchange too thrilling to stop now. With a firm grip on her hips, you started to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into her. She gasped, her eyes flying open to look back at you over her shoulder, a mix of shock and excitement on her face.

"Is this what you want?" you growled, driving into her again and again. "To be used by me?"

Her response was a whimper, her body still trembling from the force of her orgasm. "Yes," she managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, baby, use me."

That was all the encouragement you needed. You began to fuck her in earnest, your hips slamming into her ass with a ferocity that left her breathless. Each thrust was punctuated by a slap against her skin, the sound of skin on skin music to your ears. Haewon's moans grew louder, her body moving in time with yours as you claimed her in a way that was both brutal and beautiful.

Her pussy was soaking wet, making it easier for you to slide in and out of her with every pump of your hips. You reached around to her clit, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers as you began to rub it in rhythm with your thrusts. She was so close, her body begging for release, but you weren't ready to give it to her just yet.

"Beg for it," you demanded, your voice gruff with desire.

Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip, trying to hold back the moan that was threatening to spill out. "Please," she whimpered, her voice cracking with need. "Please, let me come."

You smirked, enjoying the way her body responded to your control. "Not yet," you said, your voice low and firm. "You'll come when I say so."

Her eyes pleaded with you, and you knew she was close. The muscles in her pussy clenched around your cock, and she was panting heavily, her entire body trembling with need. You felt a thrill at the power you held over her, the way she was willing to submit to your every whim. It was a heady sensation that made you want to push her even further.

You reached up and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back as you drove into her even deeper. "Who do you belong to?" you demanded, your voice a low growl.

"I belong to you," she gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head. The pain from your grip only added to the pleasure, and she knew you could see it on her face.

Your pace grew even more frenzied, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room along with Haewon's cries of pleasure. Her pussy was clamping down around your cock, trying to milk you dry, but you were in control. You knew exactly when to ease off and when to push harder, when to rub her clit in just the right way to send her over the edge.

"Now," you finally ordered, your hand moving away from her hair to give her neck a gentle squeeze. "Come for me, baby. Show me how much you like being my little slut."

Her eyes rolled back, and with a scream of pleasure, Haewon's body convulsed as another powerful orgasm ripped through her. Her pussy spasmed around your cock, her juices flooding out to mix with the sweat on her thighs. You watched her, the sight of her total submission sending another jolt of lust through your body.

Your grip on her hips tightened as you felt your own release approaching. Each slap of your skin against her ass grew wetter, and the sound grew more pronounced. You could feel the tension building in your balls, and with one final, deep thrust, you emptied yourself inside her, filling her up with your cum. The feeling was indescribable, the heat of your release mixing with her own, creating a symphony of pleasure that had you groaning with satisfaction.

For a moment, you remained there, buried deep inside her, your chest heaving with exertion. Then, you slowly pulled out, watching as your cum trickled down her legs, mixing with the wetness of her pussy. Haewon's body was still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at the effect you had on her.

With a gentle tug, you helped her up, her legs wobbly as she leaned into you. You both stumbled over to the couch, collapsing onto it with a laugh. She snuggled into you, her head on your chest, and you wrapped your arms around her, holding her tight. Her breathing was still ragged, her heart racing from the intense experience you'd just shared.

For a few moments, you just enjoyed the quiet, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against yours. Then she looked up at you with a shy smile. "That was… intense," she murmured, her voice still thick with lust. You couldn't help but chuckle at her understatement.

"You liked it?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, but she nodded. "I liked it more than I thought I would," she admitted, her voice small but earnest. You felt a surge of satisfaction at her response. You had never seen Haewon this way—so raw and vulnerable—and it was incredibly arousing.

"Do you want to switch next time?" you asked her, your voice a low murmur as you stroked her hair. Haewon's smile grew wider, but she shook her head. "No, I like this" she whispered, her eyes never leaving yours. "I want to be yours, to do whatever you want."

You leaned down and kissed her, feeling her melt into your embrace. Her submission was like a drug, and you were already craving more. But for now, you were content to hold her close, the warmth of her body seeping into yours as you both came down from the intense high.

#kpop fanfic #smut #gg smut #kpop smut #nmixx smut #haewon smut #male reader smut

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eden031 · 1 month ago

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Okay again

Pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, Jack and reader own a dog, domestic fluff, cuddling, Jack having insomnia

Words: 2.3k

Summary: After coming home from a gruelling day at work everything is okay once she is back with her two favourite boys.

The shift at the PTMC had been gurelling, the Pitt had been packed with people. Robby and Collins had been bitchy all day, Frank was still gone, Dana was on vacation, replaced by Antonia, a nice, but not as motherly charge nurse. Santos was getting on her nerves, Whittaker had gotten an ungodly amount of bodily fluids on him during the shift, Javadi was the only one that seemed to be in a normal mood that day. Cassie’s ankle monitor had kept going off what felt like every half hour, Mohan was quicker than usual, but still too slow for such a busy day.

Patients had been shouting at her all day, one had tried to throw poop at her, one had tried to pee on her, someone had spit her in the face, someone else tried to bite her, the same patient had bitten her later on in the shift. Luckily the bite had not been deep, it had not even breached the skin, but still. People dying, hysterical parents, it was all just horrible and then shift change came. The saving grace of the day, shift change, the thing she had been looking forward to since around lunch time. Even shift change had not gone smoothly, it had taken forever and had been delayed, instead of leaving the Pitt at seven like she had planned to, she had left the Pitt at nine thirty. To put it lightly the day had been shit and she felt like she might actually break down if anything else happened.

Now leaning against the closed door of her apartment she closed her eyes, dreading to glance at the laundry basket by the door, she would have to get the washing done sooner rather than later, Jack probably too tried to do anything except fall into bed and sleep like a rock after the double shift he pulled due to severe understaffing in the ED. Though as she pried her eyes open she glanced at the laundry basket, it was empty, the feeling of relief and adoration for her partner settling in her stomach as she began to peel off the scrubs. Putting the dirty clothes into the bin she slowly moved into the kitchen, the soft smell of spices floating over to her. Jack stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his arms folded over his chest as he stared at the pot sitting on the stove.

“Jack?” she muttered softly, it was chilly when she was only walking around in her underwear, but she really did not want to go to the bedroom at that moment. She wanted to check what he was doing before she got dressed.

“Hm?” he looked up from the pot, a soft expression on his face. Juno lay by his foot, beside the crutches, the malinois looking at her with big brown eyes, his ears turned in her direction. “Hey, baby,” a soft smile on his lips, the deep creases beneath his eyes showing that he probably had not slept after coming home from the double shift.

“Hey,” she stepped into the kitchen, Juno’s tail beginning to wag as he looked at her, like he wanted to charge at her and jump into her arms.

“Go,” Jack said softly, she knew that it was directed at Juno who got up right away, beginning to lick her legs as she stepped towards the sink to wash her hands. “I guess I should not ask how the shift was?” Jack asked softly as he ran a hand down her back.

Shaking her head she hummed softly, drying her hands and beginning to scratch the fur behind the dog’s ears.

“Please don’t,” she muttered as she looked into the pot, it looked like the eggplant tikka masala Jack loved to make, the smell heavenly as she finally felt how bone tired she was. Pressing a quick kiss to Jack’s lips she sighed.

“Go shower,” Jack hummed as he kissed her shoulder, his eyes finding the imprint of teeth on her arm as she hummed softly. Juno followed her into the bathroom, the tapping of his paws relaxing.

She was not sure how long it took her to shower and get dressed but by the time she walked back into the kitchen, Juno still following her, Jack had plated the food and taken a seat at the kitchen table. Falling into the chair she scooted forward a bit, making some room for the malinois, patting the space behind her the dog jumped onto the chair, putting his head on her shoulder.

“You know you are spoiling him,” Jack mumbled as he began eating the food, a spoon loaded with food going into his mouth as he looked at her with a fond expression.

“I know, but my back hurts and he is so warm and cuddly,” she mumbled softly as she nuzzled her head into the fur of the dog who simply pushed back gently. Jack hummed at that, continuing to chew as she also started to eat.

“You didn’t sleep,” it was a simple observation, simply pointing it out to him as they ate together.

“Woke up every half an hour or so,” Jack muttered, “Thought I might be productive if I can’t sleep” he hummed softly as he stared at his plate.

“What did you do?” she asked, knowing that sometimes it was good for Jack to tell her what he did around the house, to make his inner voice shut up, the voice that kept telling him that he was not productive enough, not good enough.

“Did the laundry, changed the bedding, cleaned the kitchen, vacuumed, mopped, went out for a run with Juno, made dinner,” he paused, “made a second dinner because I brought the couple next door the first dinner,” he sighed. The couple next door just had a baby and they were massively overwhelmed, she thought that it was sweet that Jack brought them something. “Helped Rose-Marie carry up the groceries to her apartment and had some tea with her,” Jack recounted the events of the day, “Oh and the kids from 78?” he sounded unsure if the two children were actually from apartment 78, but she nodded, knowing exactly who he was referring to. “They came by and wanted to pet Juno”

She nodded, a small smile on her lips as she imagined Juno laying on his mat, the two boys sitting beside him, carefully scratching behind his ears. Their mother was always very careful when it came to Juno and dogs in general, but the two boys loved dogs more than anything. The first time the twin brothers had spotted Jack, her and Juno they had practically ripped themselves from their mother’s hands and had stormed towards them, still asking politely if it was okay to pet Juno.

As she ate she nodded, smiling as Juno simply continued to rest his head on her shoulder, not fuzzing around. Jack looked like he was about to fall asleep over his plate as he looked a bit sad.

“Rose-Marie told me that her son died last weekend,” Jack sounded a bit chocked. It made her want to cry, they had met Rose-Marie’s son a few times, a nice man about Jack’s age, healthy and fit.

“Oh no! How horrible! Does she need anything?” she asked, trying to keep her calm. It was hard being confronted with your own mortality in your job, but when you come home and are confronted with it again it is much worse.

“She told me that it would be nice if we might take her along on our walks with Juno, she is thinking about getting a dog herself. Told her that she should not get a malinois, but she said that she already knew that she wanted a miniature pinscher, a breed she and her late husband had owned back in the day,” Jack looked like he was about to start crying as he put the spoon on the now empty plate.

“He just had a heart attack,” he sounded so disconcerted that it broke her heart, “Out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, his wife said that he didn’t think anything of it, that he just went back to sleep and didn’t wake up again the next morning.” Jack’s hands were shaking slightly.

“Jack,” her voice was kind, but firm. “You are spiraling again,” it was an observation, just like it had been when she had told him that he had not slept. Her therapist had told her that it was important for her to tell Jack these things outright. “You haven’t slept in over 36 hours and you are exhausted,” she spoke softly.

“I know, it’s just-” he cut himself off, “You are right,” he ran his hands over his face, an exhausted goran leaving his lips. Juno jumped off the chair, walking around the table, starting lick Jack’s arms.

“You are right, big boy,” Jack hummed, his hands finding the soft fur of the dog, gently scratching his neck.

“Hey!” she sounded fake hurt, laughing softly as she finished her food, picking up both her’s and Jack’s plates to put them in the dishwasher.

“You know I wasn’t talking about you,” Jack huffed, sounding fake annoyed as he got up from his seat. She turned around to look at him for a long moment. Carefully wrapping her hands around his face she began smoothing out the lines of worry from his cheeks and forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered softly as she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. Jack wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in closer, her hands leaving his face to wrap around his middle.

“I love you too,” he muttered, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there. For a moment they stayed like this, arms wrapped around each other. Standing in silence as they felt each other’s warmth. Her hair was still wet from the shower she took, Jack smelled like the unscented soap and his shampoo, the clothes smelling like the laundry detergent they had been using for the entire time they had lived together.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” she muttered softly. Letting go of Jack, taking his hand as they walked towards the bedroom together. Juno followed them as they turned off the lights in the entire apartment. Finally after what felt like hours they climbed into bed together, the room was cool, Jack hating it if it was too warm. She also slept better if the room was on the colder side, climbing into bed and under the blanket she let out a low sigh of relief as the light fabric hit her tired body, closing her eyes for a moment. Jack snuggled into the blanket behind her, his arm wrapped around her waist as he gently pressed a few kisses to her neck. As she opened her eyes again she saw Juno sitting in front of her, his head tilted to the side.

“Yeah, come on, Juno,” she patted the mattress, the malinois jumping onto the bed, curling up against her stomach, letting out a content huff as he put his head on her thigh.

“That dog loves you a lot more than me,” Jack muttered, a soft laugh escaped her. Jack had been the one who had the idea to get a dog, he had been the one to pick out Juno from the litter, name him and they had trained the dog together, though for some odd reason Juno had taken a better liking to her than to her partner.

“Maybe we need to get a second dog,” she hummed as she turned her head slightly, looking into Jack’s eyes.

“Good idea, what breed are you thinking?” Jack hummed as he pressed a few gentle kisses to her lips.

“Not sure, what about a German shepard or maybe a flat coated retriever?” she suggested. Knowing that Jack would want to go for another high energy breed.

“Oh, a flat coated sounds good, but I think if we want a second dog we should think about getting a bigger place,” he hummed as he gently brushed some hair from her face.

“Jack, we have been talking about getting a bigger place for ages. I think that should be a commitment we make before a second dog,” she raised her brow at him, agreeing with his statement. They had wanted to buy a house together and if they decided to get a second dog they might look for one with a bigger backyard than they originally intended.

“I am still not over that farmhouse we looked at,” Jack muttered as he pressed a kiss to her neck.

“Yeah, me neither, but we would have to drive almost two hours to work every day for that,” she hummed softly, trying to keep herself from falling asleep while they talked, her eyelids heavy.

“Yeah, maybe we can find something closer to work,” he hummed in agreement as he nuzzled his face into her neck, for a few moments she tried to keep herself awake in case Jack wanted to continue the discussion.

“Love you, sleep well,” she muttered softly as she felt herself drifting off to sleep. The feeling of her two favourite boys close to her is the best feeling she could have ever hoped for. Gentle tufts of breath hitting her neck.

“Love you too,” Jack murmured as she felt his body going heavy behind her. Juno lifting his head from her legs, simply rolling himself tighter, snuggling against her stomach, another content sigh coming from him.

As she laid there, drifting off to sleep, she knew that no matter how bad the next day might be, the moment she came home to her boys everything would be okay again.

#the pitt #jack abbot #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #dr jack abbott #jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x female reader

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prythianpages · 1 month ago

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So Much To Prove | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader ft Azriel | Feeling much better now, you begin to crave Autumn pastries and find yourself missing home.

a/n: This was meant to be a little inbetween scene but the more I wrote, I decided to just call it pt 11 lol. A little under 3k.

warnings: angst, reader is pregnant, mentions of mood swings and pregnancy cravings

Azriel hated being here.

Spring remained unpredictable, its High Lord still wandering like a lost and restless beast. And yet, it was the safest place to meet. If not for the letter you’d written—the one you entrusted to Azriel to deliver safely—Azriel would’ve turned Eris’s request down without hesitation.

Azriel’s shadows slithered through the thick greenery, a bit agitated and needing to release their energy after having winnowed him here. Eris was already waiting, arms crossed over his chest, shoulder propped against the trunk of a tree. He looked the part of composed arrogance. Cool, collected, bored even. But Azriel’s shadows whispered otherwise. They pulsed with the quick, uneven rhythm of Eris’s heartbeat.

He didn’t bother masking the edge in his voice. “You said this was urgent?”

“Yes,” Eris replied. He straightened himself and approached Azriel. He stopped once he was close enough and reached for the leather satchel that had been hanging from his frame. He slipped it off, holding it out to Azriel. “I need you to give this to her for me.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, and his shadows shifted their movement, fluttering toward the satchel. They searched for anything hidden, anything sharp or deceptive. What could Eris possibly have to give that hadn’t already been left at your bedside, opened and ignored?

After a moment, he took the satchel and opened, curiosity getting the best of him.

Azriel blinked. “You summoned me to another court… for pastries?”

Eris’s jaw twitched. “They’re not just any pastries. They’re apple turnovers, a specialty from Autumn and her favorite.”

Azriel said nothing. He simply stared at the pastries nestled within the bag, alongside a few other Autumn delicacies. They were still warm. His shadows curled around the satchel as if they were savoring the spiced scent of cinnamon and baked apples. Even he knew they were your favorite—recalling the night he first met you in the Day Court and the story your brother had told him then.

“She’s still in your mother’s care, yes?” Eris asked, voice quieter now. The real reason he’d called for this “urgent” meeting at last slipping through. “I’m not asking for details, shadowsinger. Just—” He paused, exhaling sharply, frustration tightening his features. “Is she all right? Are they both all right? Is the power…faring well?”

The male before him unsettled Azriel more than a threat ever could. Because this wasn’t the Eris he knew. Not the sharp-tongued fox wrapped in layers of calculation and ego. Eris didn’t look like the future High Lord he always boasted himself to be. Up close, Azriel could see it more clearly now—how exhaustion clung to him. The stubble lining his jaw, the slight darkness beneath his eyes, the strands of red hair falling unkempt across his brow.

“She’s doing much better and the baby is fine,” Azriel finally responded, keeping it short and simple.

You had yet to manifest the power Eris had given you, and Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if it lay dormant, waiting for the right moment to ignite. Or perhaps, it never would. Maybe it had simply been enough to soothe your body.

You still complained of feeling warm from time to time, but nothing close to the delirious, feverish state that had once gripped you.If anything, it seemed the ember of Eris’s gift had stirred something in the babe growing inside you. The baby had grown even more restless, kicking and shifting more often now, but Madja had assured you that she was healthy and growing well.

But Azriel didn’t think that was worth mentioning, still on edge and tense around the Autumn male.

Something broke in Eris’s expression, a mixture of tenderness and relief. It flashed in his eyes and was gone before Azriel’s shadows could study it further. He didn’t let himself be swayed, still not trusting the male before him fully.

Yes, Eris had come to help you. He had offered you a fragment of his power—a gift Azriel never imagined the Autumn heir would part with. Not when power was the very thing Eris and his brothers always fought for. Though, after everything Eris had put you through, it had felt less like a gift and more like the bare minimum. It was the least he could do for you, even if he questioned Eris’s motives behind it all.

“She has everything she needs,” Aziel decided to add. “My mother and I see to that personally.”

Eris nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes drifting toward the trees. Azriel’s shadows followed his gaze, mildly alert, but found nothing amiss.

“Well,” Azriel said, slipping the satchel over his shoulder. “Was this all?”

“Yes,” Eris replied and then paused thoughtfully. His expression suddenly hardened. “If anything happens, you call for me.”

Ah, there he was.

The Eris that Azriel was used to–sharp and demanding. Azriel met his gaze and in that moment, a rare understanding passed between them. He never expected to find common ground with Eris. But now, there was you.

He’ll be honest. His reasons for approaching you hadn’t been pure. When his shadows first caught traces of Eris on you, he’d wanted information, some leverage or dirt on the Autumn heir. When he learned you were pregnant, something inside him faltered. And when he actually got to know you, he liked you. He hadn’t meant for the two of you to grow so close in a short period of time. Though he only saw you as a friend and nothing more, he had to admit the fact his relationship with you irritated Eris, was a bonus.

Speaking of you…The letter you’d given him tugged at his attention, as if it were burning a hole in his pocket. “I actually have something for you too,” Azriel muttered, pulling the folded letter from one of his pockets and holding it out to Eris.

Eris accepted it slowly. His gaze dropped to the parchment, and something in his expression shifted—softened—as he turned it over and saw his name scrawled in neat, familiar handwriting. That same tenderness from earlier flickered across his features.

And for a brief, fragile second, Azriel thought—maybe Eris was capable of being good, of kindness and love. The moment passed as quick as it had come, his shadows reminding him of all the other things Eris had done, of who Eris was. He was someone who didn’t give anything without expecting something in return…

This could all be an act, for all Azriel knew. He’d heard of the things a bond can do to a male. So Azriel said nothing. Just turned, preparing to winnow away.

“The turnovers,” Eris said, halting him in his movements. “Don’t tell her they’re from me.”

Azriel glanced back, a brow lifting in confusion.

“I think she’ll enjoy them more if she believes they came from you.”

Azriel caught the meaning buried beneath the words and didn’t bother correcting him. Let Eris believe what he wanted.

Meanwhile in Rosehall

The cravings had come in full force since your fever broke.

Before, they had been little things. A peach caramel tart here, a beef stew there, the scent of roasted pecans. Rosanna had humored them, indulging you with gentle smiles and reassuring you it was no trouble for her as she loved cooking. You were immensely grateful for it, given your own skills in the kitchen were extremely lacking.

All cravings had one thing in common and you found yourself missing home more and more every day. You hadn’t realized how hard it would be, to not be able to go back home. You missed the peaceful rustle of autumn leaves, missed the warm scent of woodsmoke in the air and the gleam of burnished gold across the forests of the Autumn Court.

You missed him too.

Even thinking his name hurt in that aching way that came after the worst of a heartbreak had settled. At first, you’d been shattered when he pushed you away. Then, the anger had come, sharp and fiery. You’d cursed his name, cursed yourself for hoping. Cursed the bond after it had snapped for you even.

Now… now you didn’t know what to feel.

The ache lingered and the uncertainty there grew.

When you’d fallen ill, fevered and weak from carrying his child, he came.

You hadn’t seen him but you felt him when he held your hand. You heard when he whispered those three words to you, the ones you had hoped he’d say back to you back then when you first said them yourself. You also heard him when he apologized and promised that he’d make things right, wishing that you had the strength to respond and talk. You barely had the energy to mumble out a “don’t go.” Though it had been so quiet, you’re certain he hadn’t heard.

When you found out he’d given you a kernel of his power to help you and the baby—Well, you hadn’t known what to do with that.

Eris was the heir to Autumn. His power meant everything to him, one he’d trained and fought so hard to strengthen. And he gave a piece, though small, of it to you.

It shouldn’t have mattered so much.

Yet it did.

You couldn’t pretend not to love him. You couldn’t stop missing him, couldn’t stop reaching for memories of his voice, his warmth, the way he held your gaze like you were the only thing he saw. You also couldn’t forget how he let you go.

So you sat in this awkward space, somewhere between yearning and aching, between heartbreak and hope. It made you question everything.

You’d convinced yourself that he’d wanted you back only because of the mating bond—that the promise of powerful offspring had been too enticing for a calculating male like him to ignore. You were just a piece of a future he was planning, not someone he chose. But then why did it sound like it had hurt him to walk away?

Why did he whisper I love you? Those were not words to say so lightly, given your situation. Why give up a part of his power, the very power he’d always protected so fiercely, to protect both you and the baby?

He could’ve let you suffer through the rest of your pregnancy as high risk as it had become. Madja had confirmed the child would have had to be born early but she would survive. It was you that Madja was concerned since your baby’s blood was slowly burning you from the inside out.

Either way, you were tired of guessing, tired of grieving a story you hadn’t even let finish. It’s what led you to finally writing him back. In the letter, you asked if he would meet you. Just to talk, to see if he’d say the things he said to you when you were unconscious again.

Rosanna had kept you occupied the past couple of days, sensing trouble on your mind. Once you were back on your feet, she continued to enlist your help with simple tasks such as gathering vegetables from her garden, sorting through old books and helping her with groceries from the morning market.

When Rosanna caught you staring wistfully out the window this morning, murmuring about turnovers and cinnamon sugar, she had jumped at the opportunity to make them for you. However, you insisted that you were going to give them a try yourself. Under her supervision, of course. You did not want your incompetency to affect her beloved kitchen. Besides, you need to learn yourself as you could not always depend on Rosanna to be there.

Growing up a noble lady had come with its perks. You were a master of all things expected such as crafting, etiquette, subtle politics disguised as gossip. But cooking? Not so much. Eris had been the one to teach you how to turn on a stove. He also randomly taught you how to fish with your bare hands. But even he had spoiled you, taking care of everything else.

And so you decided to give this a try. Surely, making a dessert couldn’t be so hard, right?

Well, you were wrong.

The kitchen was a mess, flour dusting every surface like a snowfall. You’d burned your first batch, undercooked the second. The third was… edible. But it wasn’t right. Not what you remembered. Not what you needed.

The tears had come so suddenly you hadn’t even had time to warn Rosanna.

Now you sat slumped at her kitchen table, red-eyed and miserable, a failed turnover in front of you and your hands cradling your growing bump.

“I can’t do anything right,” you choked out. “How am I supposed to raise a child on my own?”

Rosanna reached over and gently rubbed your back. “It takes a village, sweetheart. And you’re not alone. Now, have some tea while I try a batch myself.”

You opened your mouth to protest when another voice cut in.

“No need.”

Azriel stepped into the kitchen, his shadows retreating behind him as he moved. In his hands was a leather satchel. He pulled out a brown paper bag, carefully placing it in front of you as if the contents were fragile.

The scent hit you before you even opened it. Warm apples, cinnamon, butter. A taste of home.

Your head whipped around so quickly your neck twinged. Eyes wide with disbelief and still teary eyed from moments ago, you stared at the bag, then at Azriel.

“How… how did you know?”

Azriel held your gaze for a long moment before his lips curved—just barely—into a small, sheepish smile. “A little fox told me,” he murmured.

You didn’t catch the deeper meaning. Didn’t think about who that little fox could be. You were too overwhelmed—too grateful—to think at all. You weren’t even aware that Azriel had come from delivering your letter. You had just given it to him, asking if he could give it to Eris next time he saw him.

You burst into tears all over again.

Rosanna barely had time to react before you were rising unsteadily to your feet, arms outstretched to hug Azriel. You couldn’t get close enough to wrap your arms around him, your stomach stopping you. It had grown over these past couple of days, more noticeably so, and that sent you into a fresh wave of sobs. All the changes you’d gone through recently, all the hormones, the emotions…

“I can’t even hug you properly because I’m too big now,” you cried, pulling back and hands flying to your face to cover it. “I’m huge.”

Azriel looked helplessly toward his mother, his shadows shifting anxiously around his feet. Rosanna only shook her head, a silent warning to not encourage those thoughts. There was a hint of amusement that danced in her eyes as she mouthed “say something.”

It was his shadows who nudged him forward, prompting him to pull you into a gentle side hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. You leaned into it with a soft hiccup, your tears now easing into quiet sniffles.

“You’re not huge. You’re just carrying–”

“A fire gremlin?"

Azriel winced, his wings tensing. His shadows let out a hiss, reprimanding him once more. He’d never live that one down. The name had slipped out in a moment of bitterness. It was aimed at Eris, not the innocent babe. He’d told you about it later, guilt-ridden, and apologized the next morning when he was unable to meet your eyes.

There was no anger in your tone, his shadows picking up on the barest hint of teasing in your voice. He let out a small exhale.

"No," he breathed. “You may be carrying Prythian’s tiniest threat… but she’s precious cargo and worth every inch of space she’s taking up.”

You let out a small laugh and Azriel let go of you. He placed his hands on your shoulder, gently guiding you back to the kitchen table.

“Now, let’s keep her happy and give her the apple turnover she’s been craving...”

Eris didn’t winnow back right away.

He remained in spring, still standing in the small clearing longer after Azriel disappeared. The letter weighed more than parchment should, heavier than the air around him. He’d moved to the edge of the glade, sitting on a fallen log hidden beneath a curtain of vines. It was then that he allowed himself to unfold the letter.

He drew in a breath and read.

Eris,

I debated for days whether or not to write this but you deserve to know that the baby is safe. I am doing much better now, too. Thank you. Azriel told me what you did and I also heard all you said to me.

I want to do what’s best for this baby and I have questions. I can’t disclose my location to you but I would like to meet to talk. Azriel said he could help us arrange something. This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you completely. But it does mean I’m not holding onto anger the way I once did.

If you want to explain, I will hear you out. I don’t know what comes after that. I’m not promising anything. But let’s meet and discuss.

Eris’s thumb swept over your signature before gently folding the letter. He pressed it to his chest and for a long moment, he just sat there, staring at the dirt and leaves, trying to collect the fragments of himself scattered over weeks of regret.

Then he stood.

His shoulders were straighter and though his eyes were still rimmed with fatigue, there was a spark behind those amber irises again. You’d finally opened the door. Not wide or enough to step through. But cracked. Just enough for light to bleed through.

Just enough for hope to find him again.

a/n: I'm going to follow this poll & take a little break from the angst to write something lighter. So the next update will go back in time and show Eris & Reader pre-angst. As I try to sort out some details for the ending of this lol. If you have any suggestions, anything you'd like to see or thoughts you'd like to share, please do so (:

I've loved reading your reactions and thoughts so far!

series taglist: @kodafics , @shinyghosteclipse, @marrass, @posierosie, @solanaaaaaaa

@tele86, @bubybubsters, @k-homosapien, @mariaxliliana, @kathren1sky-blog

@anainkandpaper, @icey--stars, @moonlovefairy, @hellohauntedturnstudent, @lucia-valentinaa,

@wrenisrad, @smol-grandpa, @sleepylunarwolf, @63angel, @anuttellaa

@anon1227 @paleidiot @thatacotargirl, @queenoffeysand , @slut4acotar @awkardnerd

@blueroseava , @lovetia , @historygeekqueen , @idk1027 ,@naturakaashi

@blightyblinders , @wolvesnravens , @galaxystern08 , @faeofthemoonandstars , @antisocial-architect

@elisha-chloe, @cwallace02sblog, @randomramblesfanfiction, @moonlitlavenders, @booksnwriting

@sunny1616, @holb32, @gamarancianne, @daemyratwst, @ratgirl2020 @balufy

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra angst #eris angst #eris fanfic #the mark eris left behind

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covenofagatha · 7 months ago

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Sugar, spice, and everything nice (Part 1)

Hot, rich, lawyer Agatha comes into the bakery where you work and she takes quite an interest in you (or Sugar mommy Agatha)

Word count: 2000

Warnings: none yet

A/N: hope you guys like this one!

The bakery is always dead on Sunday afternoons.

You’re not really sure why, maybe people are getting ready for the week or something, but it seems that in the town of Westview, no one craves sweets on Sundays.

You’re not complaining, though. That just means you get to sit in an empty store and scroll on your phone and still get paid.

Working at the bakery part time was a nice way to make some money while you finish up college, and to be honest, you did really like it. Your coworkers were all super nice and it wasn’t a very demanding job either.

And then the bell on the door rings. You look up from your phone, startled.

It’s a woman that you’ve never seen before.

She’s wearing a tight white blouse under a brown blazer and smart gray pants. Her long, dark hair flows freely over one shoulder and her pale skin and blue eyes are striking. She is attractive.

It doesn’t help that you’ve always had a thing for older women.

“Hi,” she says, coming to a stop in front of the counter.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?” You ask the rehearsed question. You wouldn’t be surprised if you said it in your sleep at this point.

“What do you recommend?”

You’re not even sure she’s looked at the menu that’s posted above the counter. “Depends on what you like. We have cupcakes, cake, pastries. It’s all good. What are you in the mood for?”

You might be imagining it, but it really seems like her eyes rake up and down your body. She shrugs noncommittally. “Something fresh, something…sweet.” You swallow hard at the glint of heat in her eyes.

“I just took a batch of cupcakes out of the oven,” you say. “Do you like red velvet?”

“Sure, hon. I’ll take three,” she says. You smile wearily and get to work packaging them up. She watches you the whole time.

You ring up the purchase on the register and clear your throat. “That’ll be $7.50.” She smirks and pulls out her wallet, flipping through bills. She pulls one out and hands it to you and your mouth falls open.

It's $50.

“Keep the change,” she says with a wink. She grabs the box and walks swiftly out of the bakery.

You assume it’s a one-time thing and pocket the extra money. You secretly hope she comes back though.

And sure enough, she struts back in three days later, dressed just as nicely as she was the first time. You’re working the morning shift before your afternoon class and you are sipping on a desperately needed cup of coffee. She must be really rich, you think as she walks up, a smile playing on her lips.

“Morning, hon,” she says.

“Good morning, how are you doing today?”

“Better now,” she replies and you can feel your cheeks getting hotter. “Can I get an espresso and a piece of cinnamon crumb cake?”

“Of course. Anything else?”

She raises an eyebrow teasingly like she wants to make a joke but says, “That’s all, dear. Thank you.”

“Your total comes to $8.75,” you tell her. “For here or to-go?”

“For here, please.”

“I’ll get you the cake and then the coffee will be ready soon.”

When you turn back with the piece of cake on a plate, she’s holding another $50 bill between her fingers.

“Oh, I can’t–” She cuts you off by putting it into your uniform shirt pocket and pats it. You freeze with her hand basically touching your boob. She smirks and takes the plate from your hand and goes to sit in a corner booth. You don’t allow yourself to look at her as you make her espresso.

She’s on her phone when you walk over to her, but she looks up earnestly when you put the cup down in front of her.

“Here’s your coffee,” you say and you’re turning around to go back behind the counter when she touches your wrist.

“Why don’t you sit down?” She asks, and it’s clear she’s not asking. And even if she was, she’s tipped you almost more than you make in a day on two separate occasions. You plop down on the other side of the table. “How do you like working here?”

“Oh, um, it’s nice. I enjoy it. Plus we get dessert for free so can’t complain,” you say, a little surprised by the question.

“Are you still in college?”

“Yeah, I’m graduating in the spring.” She nods like she’s deep in thought. “What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer,” she answers, confidence oozing from her voice. Her tipping so much makes a lot more sense now. You launch into a series of questions, absolutely fascinated by her words, and she gives you everything you want.

You’re so engrossed in her stories that you almost miss the bell to the bakery ringing. You suddenly jolt and remember that you’re supposed to be working.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you say hastily and dart back behind the counter. A man orders a croissant and a coffee and you get his order out quickly. You want to back over to the woman, but you feel like you shouldn’t, especially with the other customer in here now. You can feel her looking at you the whole time though.

A few minutes later she walks back up to the counter and places her empty coffee cup and plate down.

“Oh, thank you,” you say, surprised. You usually clean off the tables yourself.

“Thank you,” she says. Her eyes sweep over your face. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll be here,” you joke lamely but she smirks regardless. “I’m y/n.”

“I know,” she responds, reaching over again to tap on the tag that clearly says your name. You blush furiously and fight the urge to hide your face in your hands. “I’m Agatha.”

“Nice to meet you, Agatha,” you say, trying out her name on your tongue. You like how it sounds, how it feels.

“Have a good day, hon.” Before you can tell her to have one too, she’s on her way out of the bakery, the bell announcing her departure. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. How is it that she can have this much effect on you after meeting her twice?

You take the bill from your shirt pocket and put it in the register, collecting the change. Sure she’s rich, but she doesn’t have to be giving you this much money.

So why is she?

You spend the rest of the day thinking about Agatha.

The next day, she comes strolling in at the exact same time. You’re doing some school work on your laptop and you hope you don’t visibly perk up as much as you feel. You wonder if those three days you didn’t see her between the first meeting and yesterday she had come by when you weren't on shift.

But that’s a crazy thought, because surely she isn’t coming by just to see you. She orders the same thing: an espresso with a piece of cinnamon crumb cake.

She gives you another crisp $50 bill.

“I know you have money to burn, being a fancy lawyer and all,” you tease. “But please don’t go broke buying coffee and cake.”

She laughs melodically. “Doll, I’m not just buying coffee and cake, I’m thanking the excellent service.” And once again, she’s made you flush. You inwardly tell yourself that you need to stop letting her have such an effect on you.

You get her the cake and she goes to sit down at the booth from yesterday and you begin making her coffee. You’re lost in thought, wondering if Agatha will invite you to sit with her again, when your hand shakes as you're pouring coffee from the pot to the cup and splashes onto your hand.

You gasp loudly and drop the pot. It shatters all over the counter and soaks your laptop.

“Oh, god, no!” You groan and rush to grab paper towels. You quickly sop up the mess from your laptop and carefully collect the pieces of glass.

“Everything okay?” Agatha asks and you turn to find her standing at the counter again, a look of worry on her face.

“Yeah, god, I’m sorry, I accidentally dropped the coffee,” you sputter. You throw the towels away and open up your computer, frantically pressing the power button.

It doesn’t turn on.

With a defeated sigh, you close it and pinch the bridge of your nose. Of fucking course. You aren’t sure how you’re going to pay for a new laptop.

“You okay?” Concern laces Agatha’s voice.

You scoff and shrug. “There could not be a worse time for my computer to break. I have school work that needs to be done – I have an exam to take! And now I have to go find time to go to the store and buy a new one and ugh. It’s just so frustrating.” It feels good to vent and then you realize that you’re talking to basically a complete stranger. You straighten up. “Sorry, let me get a new pot and I’ll have that espresso right up.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, doll. I’ll get it next time.” She winks at you.

“Next time it’s on the house,” you say. She laughs like it’s some sort of inside joke. Granted, if she keeps tipping like she does, you could buy yourself a new computer in no time.

You still don’t know why she’s doing it. You open your mouth to say something, maybe ask her what she’s doing here, but she cuts you off.

“I have to go. I’ll see you later?” She asks, sounding slightly hopeful.

“You know where I’ll be,” you answer, feeling a longing pang in your chest as her face lights up at your cheesy comment.

“Sorry about your laptop,” she adds before she sticks another $20 in the tip jar. You gape at her as she smirks and walks out. She is quite literally just throwing cash at you.

And it doesn’t stop there either.

You’re just about to finish up your shift when a man walks in, carrying a white plastic bag and a clipboard.

“Y/n?” He asks, looking at a piece of paper. You affirm and he puts the bag on the counter in front of you. “Sign here, please?” You’re not quite sure what’s happening at all but you do as you’re told.

Once he walks out of the bakery, you practically tear open the bag to see what’s in it. The first thing you find is a note.

Hope this will suffice. Let me know if you like it. X, Agatha. And then a number at the bottom. Your mouth drops open and you go back into the bag and pull out a box. You take the top off and inside is a sleek, dark, new MacBook Air. Probably close to a thousand dollars.

“Holy shit,” you mutter under your breath. You run your hands over the smooth cover and open it up. It blinks to life and you actually laugh out loud.

Fucking Agatha. You’ve met her three times and she just bought you a brand new computer because you accidentally spilled coffee on yours just that morning.

Speaking of the older woman. You pull out your phone and type the number into it.

It’s y/n. Thank you so much for the laptop! You are literally a lifesaver. Is there anything I can do to repay you? I’d give you free coffee and cake for the rest of your life, but I might get fired. Thanks again! You decide it’s a good mix of gratitude and humor and send it.

Bubbles immediately appear and you wait with bated breath.

Finally a response appears and heat courses through your veins.

Of course, doll, it’s my pleasure. And don’t worry about paying me back just yet. I’m sure we’ll figure something out ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyone want to be my sugar mommy lol

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha all along #covsfics

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lokisgoodgirl · 7 months ago

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In the Bleak Midwinter [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: On a mandatory Christmas Avengers Getaway, resident Scrooge Loki discovers there is warmth to be found. (w/c 3.4k) Warnings: None, really. Fluff. Bit of angst. Brief reference to erotic fantasy. Loki in his Christmas feels. A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays & Season's Greetings my loves❤️ I hope all your days are merry & bright. 🎄

Loki’s hands dug deeper in his pockets with every methodical crunch of his boots into the snow.

The outline of the church was visible; the kind reproduced on a hundred greetings cards which had landed in Loki’s fanmail these past weeks. The cards, at least, he could ignore. Tony Stark’s ‘Olde Christmastime getaway’, it seemed, he could not.

The small church had a thick, proud steeple; old uneven walls arranged on either side in a way he was sure his brother would imminently compare to a cock and balls.

"Brother," Thor chittered madly beside him. "Doesn’t the dwelling yonder resemble—?"

Loki yanked a hand from his pocket and brushed it along a low wall running adjacent to the path. He lobbed a clutch of snow into Thor’s ruddy face and kept walking. He was in no mood for japes.

His eyes stung from the sharp, needling cold. The night was clear, and only his breath fogged the view of this place the gaggle of Avengers who insisted on ‘involving’ him hadn’t stopped wittering on about for months. Soon, they would realise he only spoiled the occasion. A perennially cracked door sending a draught through their warm surroundings.

A carol concert, he mused bitterly, shaking his head for the third time since leaving the toasted seclusion of his armchair at the lodge. Of all things he did not wish to partake in this weekend, the carol concert occupied prime position on Loki’s list of grievances.

I will go, he’d decided as Thor had forcibly manoeuvred Loki’s coat onto his body. But I shall not make merry. Loki of Asgard would not be caught dead engaging publicly in festive frivolities of any kind. Of that, he was resolved.

A soft, amber glow pulsed at the criss-crossed windows of the church. With a swell of hope, he wondered if the building was, in fact, unsalvageably ablaze. Perhaps, there would be no carol concert after all.

A vision of the cup of spiced wine he’d been rudely separated from flashed through his mind. Perhaps, it would still be steaming on his imminent return. Thor yanked his arm roughly towards the wooden doors with one thick mitten emblazoned with crudely stitched glazed hams.

"Un-hand me. This is Armani, you cretin."

"We’re already late, and I don’t want to miss a second. Besides, there are candles. You love candles."

Loki sighed. It didn’t surprise him that Thor had fallen for this seasonal, mortal farce. The fact that they were once worshipped and celebrated thus in their own realm had escaped Thor in a way it had not escaped Loki. It was to be expected, but still, as his cheeks pinched against the cold, it grated.

Behind wood and stone, an organ groaned to life and a low chorus of unsure voices rose.

“Once in Royal David’s City, Stood a lowly cattle shed…”

Thor yanked harder and Loki felt his feet unroot from the crushed ice. The voices were stronger now, coming together as one, melodious snake slithering against his iced eardrums.

Thor paused with one mitten on an iron knob, the other fastened to Loki’s Armani. Snot dangled from his nose. “Try and be nice.”

“I’m always nice.” His brother’s eyes narrowed and he relented. “Courteous, at least.”

Thor’s lips pinched. “You know what I mean…Festive.” Loki would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t sure they were frozen. He released a snort of fogged air from his nose instead. “Open the door lest we both expire in this winterous wasteland,” he said, and Thor’s face brightened.

“That’s more like it.”

The church was warmer than he’d expected. He stood at the threshold and brushed a dusting of snow from his cuffs as Thor lumbered down the aisle and made a cartoonish, indelicate attempt to sidle his bulk into a row; a boisterous whispering of apologies clashing with the turn of the organ.

“When, like stars, His children crowned All in white, shall wait around…”

Loki flinched as the voices tapered and the organist released a crescendo of bone-shuddering notes. And then, he stumbled.

“Norns,” he growled, a little too loudly in the incense-heavy silence.

He regained his balance and looked down at the small child looking up at him with wide, shining eyes. They were holding out a booklet with curled, yellowed edges. Shoddy workmanship, Loki thought as he took it with a curt nod and turned it over.

St Barnabas Church Carol Concert, it read, accompanied by a garish cartoon holly faded to a light beige. The years below it, beginning at 2002, had been scored out until whomever was in charge gave up in 2014. He sniffed, observing the child with suspicion. "I don't have any coin, if that is what you seek.”

The child’s hand was touching his hand; her small fingers like matchsticks curled around his own. She wore a sheepskin jacket that was a size too big. Not tailored, clearly, and the collar hid her mouth—yet he could tell she was smiling. He glanced to the side, noticing for the first time that every member of the audience was staring.

Natasha hung out of a row halfway down, a black fur hat low on her brow, and beckoned to the little girl. “He’s with us,” she hissed. The organ burst to life with some other musical hokum in defiance of the interruption.

Loki looked back to the little mortal. She said nothing, just led him at a glacial, imperious pace down the aisle and stopped at the correct row. Her auburn curls shimmered in the low light, bouncing.

“Oh, guess there’s no room at the inn…” Natasha winked. “Go behind.”

Loki met his brother’s smug grin one row back. He knew that smile: the plotting smile.

The small pocket of warmth that had been growing in his belly extinguished. And then, he noticed who stood beside him at the end of the row. Loki swallowed.

Thor had all but climbed over you in order to ensure it would be he, Loki of Asgard, standing beside you like a stiff, tuneless, merryless fool. His eyes slid back to his brother, sucking in his cheeks, wondering if punching out a sibling’s teeth was considered ‘festive’.

“There’s room, don’t worry…” you whispered, shuffling your gloves further along the scratched, wooden pew. The smile playing on your lips made Loki want to carve out his own heart in longing.

He edged gingerly into place, staring at the booklet in his hands. And then, your fingers were touching his, moving the pages, your woody perfume thick in his nostrils. He closed his eyes, willing the stir in his groin to cease. His brother would perish for this.

“Your hands are cold,” you whispered, giving his knuckle a brief rub with one, elegant finger. Like my heart. Loki swallowed again, observing the attendees and trying to ignore the unmistakeable correlation of your hot breath skating his neck to the twitch beneath his trousers.

The church was packed. Families, lovers, white-haired humans swaying and their creaking voices tumbling with the rest; the booklets resting unopened. They knew every word.

He fixated on the stone altar, the golden casket behind it glittering in the light. It reminded him of the Tesseract, and with that memory came a familiar twinge of guilt like the slip of a knife between his ribs.

“Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie... "

He moved his lips out of time, faintly recognising the music. As much as he’d tried to avoid it this year and last, the songs playing from your room in the Tower come December 1 were hard to ignore. And perhaps, if he were honest, he hadn’t tried very hard.

You always sang along to them when your mind wandered. It was the only part of Christmas he’d come to favour. And the candles: those too.

“Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by…”

Your finger traced along the lines of the book you shared as if he were a child. He should be insulted; and yet there was something about the tender movement, and your shoulder pressed to his that made him want to nest in this moment and never leave. Your voice was different here. It had a meeker cadence, as though you were stifling the volume and its capabilities to as not to embarrass the quality of those around you.

I’ve heard how she really sounds, he thought smugly as he cast a quick glance at his brother. Perhaps I’m the only one who has.

Thor held the booklet at arm’s length, a millimetre from the back of Stark's head, the baritone of his singing rivalling the organ. His neck swivelled slowly towards Loki. He winked.

“Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light…” Loki inhaled sharply, before fitting the words into the repetitive notes with a whisper. “The hopes and fears of all the years,” he sang quietly, voice hoarse. “Are met in thee tonight.”

You squeezed his bicep, the heel of your palm resting on his forearm. Loki stiffened, missing the start of the following verse. He turned fractionally, meeting your eyes glittering in the light of a hundred candles flickering. Gods, you were so beautiful.

He tore away.

Stop it, he chided, letting his eyes focus and refocus on a thick, white candle dripping rivulets near the altar.

He couldn’t afford the weakness that sentiment brought. One had to be wary of sentiment at this Christmastime of theirs. It was too easy to be tricked by the lure of cinnamon and the twinkle of lights like stars; drunk on new beginnings and the gluttony of temporary happiness. Loki knew what came of such things for him. He didn’t intend to make the same mistakes. Not here.

The carols began, and ended. And with each one, Loki felt the itch of sweat grow beneath his armpits, seeping into the fine cotton shirt. Five carols ago, the god had to ban himself from touching his hair like a senseless virgin. It was intolerable; to have you so close, to smell the linger of spiced gingerbread latte on your breath as your tongue shaped across each lyric, and do nothing. And what would you do? Kiss her? Force yourself upon her like an animal? He stilled the fidget of the hand hanging at his side.

You were kind, that was all. Pleasantries. Courtesies. You wanted him no more than he wanted to be at this godsforsaken carol concert.

The hand balancing the booklet began to tremble as intrusive thoughts formed in his mind of you and he curled under a blanket, barely watching those Muppet creatures he’d seen in passing, your soft whimpers as he sank inside you and rocked your curves gently against him. If the spiced wine grew cold then, he would not mind so much, perhaps.

His grip tightened on the booklet. “O’ Come, all ye faithful…” “I can’t do this,” he whispered, his brow scrunched. Your grip on his arm loosened. “Joyful and triumphant…” “Are you okay?” The journey of his gaze to your face seemed to take an age. Half of your skin was bathed in a soft, orange glow; the other shadowed as the chorus of voices grew louder; happier. A line had formed across your forehead. Concern? Maybe. Fear? Most likely.

Most of your hair was tucked under a hat, and yet he knew every strand beneath it. He’d envisioned the texture beneath his fingers more times than he had admitted to anyone. Even his Judas of a ham-fisted, scheming brother.

“I have to go." The flap of his overcoat hit the pew in a swirl and his boots were clicked on the bare stone floor towards the doorway. Eyes followed him, but he paid them no heed. They were better off without him. Within the small vestibule at the exit, a stout old man arranged a tray of mince pies. He turned just as Loki thundered past. “Oi,” the man hissed in a broad, Yorkshire accent. “Don’t forget yer pie.”

A foil-bedded pastry was thrust up towards Loki’s face as he fumbled with the door.

Loki paused, looked at it, and then the man. He had ragged, grey hair and a face carved with a thousand frowns. A worthy adversary.

Loki briefly considered making the pastry explode in a shrapnel of raisons, sighed, and thought better of it. As though they were not his own, his fingers plucked the small comestible from the old man’s hand.

“Wife made ‘em,” he said proudly, searching Loki’s face before his lips stretched in a smile over crooked, tombstone teeth. “Merry Christmas.” Loki mumbled something, twisted the knocker and fell out into the cold, crisp air. The god’s pulse pounded in his throat as he crunched down the path towards the crumbling gateposts; wind playing at the sides of his coat with delicate hands. At the boundary, he stopped. Loki steadied on a gatepost, head drooping. Hair fell around his face, fluttering against his flushed skin. “Are you going to eat that?”

He jumped, twisting around. There you stood, resplendent in moonlight from above and the glow of fresh fallen snow below. Your jaw worked; half a mince pie clutched in the hand not buried in your pocket. “They’re really good actually,” you said, pastry scattering from your lips before covering your mouth with a shy eye roll.

Loki’s lips tweaked. “Clearly. I wasn’t going to but now…I’m not so sure. It seems a valuable boon after all.”

At that, you nodded, crunching closer as you popped the remainder of the mince pie into your mouth. He spun around, gazing up to the sky, rolling his lips. She loves Christmas. Do not destroy it for her.

And then, you were at his shoulder. “So, about that mince pie…” There was a slyness in your voice that made him want to pin you against the gatepost and kiss you until you felt faint; until you couldn’t remember your own name, only his. He cupped a hand protectively over the pie, looking at you beneath his lashes.

“And what if I won’t part with it?” You shrugged. “Then perhaps I’ll rethink my gift.” His heart sank, ill-gotten confidence fading. Loki had made it very clear last Christmas that he would not partake in the Avengers gifting foolishness. Had you forgotten? His stomach joined his heart somewhere around his boots.

“I…was not expecting a gift,” he said, curling a wedge of hair behind his ear. As he did so, the pie lost balance and fell with a pathetic plop to the snow. The two of you stared at it. “Norns,” Loki said, bereft. You burst out laughing as he began rooting in the hole. “I thought gods were supposed to be nimble, suave—all that stuff.” “Have you met my brother?” “I thought you were different.” The strange slyness was back in your voice. “I thought you were a bit more…” Loki looked up, breath evaporating from his lungs as moonlight bounced off the fake jewels woven into your hat. She deserves every jewel in the nine realms. And then, you shrugged.

In a move he was sure he would later haunt him as he failed to fall asleep, Loki held the small, snow-laden mince pie aloft. An offering of contrition. Your lips flickered, and to his surprise, you took it. “My sincere apologies,” he mumbled. “It’s just a mince pie, Lokes.” “Not for that…” He sighed. “Were you speaking true about a gift? Because I…” You flapped a hand. “Everyone knows you don’t do gifts, you don’t like Christmas, yadda-yadda. But that’s not the point of gifts. I just…it belonged to you. For when you’re ready. Just…promise you won’t make it explode.”

Before Loki could think of a response, you’d produced a small box wrapped in brown paper from the depths of your jacket. His gaze lingered on it for longer than it should have before he said, “Ah.” Your eyebrows rose. “Are you going to open it?” “Should I?” He turned it over in his hands and your eyebrow rose. “It’s not a trick.” At that, his lips drew to the side. If it was a trick, he wasn’t sure if he was in the right frame of mind to deduce it. Loki’s heart pounded between his ribs, a sharp tang nestling in the back of his throat as he stared at the tightly curled ribbon hanging from the box. He wondered if you’d wrapped it here, or in the Tower, with him next door, lying in bed to the sound of your sporadic singing over Nat King Cole.

Your fingers covered his and tugged the ribbon gently. Loki’s breath hitched, eyes meeting. “Open it,” you ordered, and a hot shiver ran down Loki’s spine.

He pulled the ribbon free, then paused. “You should know…I don’t hate Christmas.” He searched your face. “It’s everything I love, you see. Or at least, I used to. Family, closeness, warmth, the feeling of hope for Spring, sprouting under the joy of light and feasting, the music…”

A lump grew in his throat, and he bit the inside of his lip to stifle it. “I find it easier to forswear, you see. It’s better for everyone that way. It seems that what I love has a habit of turning to ash.”

He didn’t realise he’d been fixated on the box under a gentle touch landed on his arm. When he looked up, you were waiting with glossy eyes, lips parted. “You don’t need to be apart from it, Loki. You deserve it…the same as any of us do.” “But—”

Your finger pressed to his lips, silencing it. “Open the box,” you said again, and the finger slid away. He did as he was bid. Inside was a Christmas bauble, polished to such a sheen he could see the sharp outline of his jaw reflected.

The base was a deep forest green, and on it, gold threads traced runes like frost clinging to spiderweb. “For when you’re ready,” you repeated, softer, as liquid heat flooded his chest. “You belong with us, Loki. I…we, love you.”

“It’s beautiful…I…” He licked his lips, making them tingle in the chill. A grin spread across your face.

“You really like it?” “I love it,” he said, not breaking eye contact. Boldness swelled inside him, lighting up the dusty corners of his frigid heart. You looked away, pulling your jacket tighter. Inside the church, the final flourish of 'O’ Come all Ye Faithful' blared. He reached out, brushing his knuckles down your puffy bicep.

“You mean it? If you don’t, I can return it…” “I really do.” “Good, because it’s custom, and I can’t return it.” Loki laughed at the same time you did, noting the sparkle of your eyes. He drew you into his arms, memorising the way your bodies slotted together despite the layers, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I fear I must buy you a gift after all…” he said quietly. You pulled back, looking up at him with absolute sincerity. “What I want doesn’t come from a shop, Loki,” you said, breathless. Your eyes dropped to his lips as you cupped his face, the warmth of your skin sending jolts of pleasure down his spine. “I just want you to be happy, and I want…I want…”

Your words grew faint as flecks of snow began to fall. And with that, his resolve exploded.

The first kiss was tentative, skin brushing over skin as he waited for you to pull away. But your arms were thrown around his shoulders, clawing at the back of his Armani coat, pulling his mouth to yours with the ferocity of a winter sea.

Hot breath seared his throat, desire and adoration so thick it held weight bursting from the secret places he had boarded up and forgotten. All he wanted was you, and this, and Yule—wherever it was, and however it was celebrated. As long as he had you.

Eager lips slid together as one kiss broke and launched into the next. Something sharp and iron was poking into his back from the gatepost, but he didn’t care. It could rip a hole in the coat for all he cared.

As your delicate moans heightened, and your fingers knotted tighter into his hair, the applause started.

The two of you broke, twisting as one towards the band of a dozen Avengers making their way down the path. Natasha had her arms spread; eyes wide. Thor was frozen in place, mittens pressed to his cheeks with a soundless scream of glee. Scott was passing money to Sam, and then Tony, too. “It’s a Christmas…miracle,” Thor screeched.

"Sweet baby Jesus..." Stark muttered, fingers jammed in his ears as Loki drew you tighter to his chest, not caring if you felt the leap of his heart through thick wool. Your hand slipped through a gap, drinking the warmth of him, and when your eyes met; Loki couldn’t breathe. “When we return to New York, I shall need a Christmas tree to hang my gift,” he whispered, placing a kiss above your ear. You giggled into his snow dusted collar. “You can always start next year- no pressure.”

Loki cast a glance over the smiling figures bundled in bobble hats and thick scarves, to the amber-lit windows, to the snow stretching over hills and faintly glowing homes scattered across them.

“I’ve waited long enough,” he murmured. And then, to the sound of cheers louder than the organ, he kissed you again.

Tags in comments 🎄✨

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #loki marvel #loki christmas #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki fluff #loki oneshot #loki x female reader #loki odinson #marvel christmas #loki x yn #loki x reader fluff

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rollingspicevee · 3 months ago

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What are some locations Shadow Milk and Burning Spice like to "take" their darling?

MDNI!

Burning Spice? Literally anywhere. If the mood strikes him, he’s taking you right there, right then. Doesn’t matter who’s around or where you are. Like I said, negative shame. If I had to pick a particular place though? His throne. Worship his cock on that throne and kiss your abilities to walk and talk goodbye for at least the next week.

Shadow Milk, on the other hand, can be very particular. High as his libido is, the right conditions have to be met. Everything has to be just right. Finicky bastard. What those things are? You have absolutely no idea. For all you know, they could fluctuate every day or depending on his mood. Some spots he seems to show a lil favor to tho are his room, ofc, and on stage, whether behind the curtains or not. Your own private show with the star of the Spire~ He’s not too keen to share the view with anyone else tho so make sure to keep your voice down-

#Eevee Answers (Spicy)#bbaak au (spicy)#beast bites (spicy)#beast bites and ancient kisses (spicy)#crk smut #burning spice cookie x reader #burning spice x reader #cookie run smut #burning spice smut #burning spice cookie smut #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk smut #shadow milk cookie smut #shadow milk cookie x reader

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hotchnerwrites · 3 months ago

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hello this is my first time requesting so sorry if it’s bad😭😭😭. but i was thinking about maybe the reader having a hard day at work (she worked at the bau) and was kinda stress out so hotch sits her in between his legs and fingers her while whispering sweet nothings in her ear ???? i just need him to take care of me😩😩😩😩😩

Reckless

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: NSFW (18+), fingering, mirror sex, kind of established but hidden relationship, no use of (y/n), afab reader

A/N: Hi, hun, thank you so much for taking the chance on me and requesting, especially since this is your first time <3 It was a great request, and I love the idea! I'm kinda new to writing smut. It's definitely a learning curve for me, but I tried my best. I really hope you like this, and it's what you wanted!!! mwah mwah mwah, enjoy. And man, I want Aaron to talk me through it so bad 😩

My requests are open. Send me stuff! :)

You hate Denver.

It’s ridiculously hot. Not even the AC was helping. And to add fuel to the fire, the local sheriff was utterly incompetent. Not only had he lost half the physical evidence, but he was also getting in the way of the team’s job.

And just your luck— you’d been tasked with retrieving the evidence. In a desperate effort to escape from reality, you’d locked yourself in the evidence cabinet, hands still shaking from too much caffeine. You knew it couldn’t last forever, but even ten minutes away from the local police was solace.

For a while, the only noise in the room was the ruffle of papers as you dug through cardboard boxes desperately, wishing the documents would magically reappear. Mindless work, but it was grinding your gears, and you could feel yourself becoming more stressed by the minute. But you keep at it, hoping against hope.

Just as you begin to settle into your task, you hear the door creak open. Damn it.

You tense, hoping it’s not that damn sheriff again. You didn’t want to have to punch him in the face. But a familiar cologne of warm spice and amber crowds your space and the tension eases— Hotch.

Though you were grateful for his presence, the case, the pressure, the exhaustion— it had all built up to a breaking point. The last thing you wanted was to talk, but you couldn’t shake the knot in your chest. Hotch, always attuned to your mood, noticed how you seemed to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders right now. That’s why he’d followed you into the filing cabinet.

Wordlessly, he slides you a small piece of paper. Before you could open it, he places a soft kiss on your temple and leaves the way he came.

10 pm Knock thrice if you’re feeling reckless. Twice if you want me to behave. Either way, my door is always open. - A

You smile.

———

You lay spread-eagle on your bed, listening for the sound of doors closing. You wanted the team in bed before you went to Aaron. All but one door… and there it was. The last click. The coast was clear. You swing your legs off the bed. Exhaustion racks your frame, but your excitement masks the strain.

You slip out of your hotel room, gently drawing your door close. Aaron’s room is opposite yours— convenient. As you’re about to knock on his door, you hesitate for a second. Twice or thrice? But as the week you’ve had flashes in front of your eyes, your resolve hardens.

Tap-tap-tap.

The door swings open almost immediately. Chocolate brown eyes meet yours, and the day’s irritation melts away. Aaron takes you by the wrist, guiding you into the room gently. The warmth of his palm was comforting, a reassurance that you were safe, even when your mind was racing.

As you follow him, you take in the state of the room. Files are scattered across the desk. A few are marked with sticky notes, others open to pages filled with dense reports and scribbled annotations. A half-finished glass of bourbon is balanced precariously nearby, and his blazer is draped over the back of the chair. Aaron’s tie is missing, tossed in some dark corner.

A dry chuckle escapes you, “Good to see I’m not the only one going nuts from stress.”

He doesn’t respond, but the small quirk of his lips tells you he heard.

“Sit,” he instructed softly, pointing towards the edge of the bed. With a quiet exhale, you obey, letting yourself be steered. You didn’t want to think anymore. Your knees fall open as you settle in, tension roving through your muscles.

Hotch steps between your legs, presence steady and grounding. Without a word, he places his hands on your shoulders, expert thumbs kneading the knots there.

Slow. Deliberate.

You can’t help the groan that falls from your lips. It felt heavenly.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and soothing. “Take a deep breath for me.”

The rigidity in your neck eases slowly, and your breathing evens out. For the first time since landing in Denver, you let go.

But just as you begin to get comfortable under Aaron’s ministrations, he moves.

Not far, just enough to sink down on the mattress beside you. Before you could process his decision, his large paws envelop your waist. And he pulls— guiding you effortlessly into his lap.

A quiet gasp escaped you as you let yourself be gathered into his hold, your back pressing flush against his chest, his arms winding around your middle.

“Better?” he murmured against your hair, his lips barely brushing your temple.

You exhaled, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Better.”

“Let me take care of you tonight, honey,” he whispered, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

He wasn’t kidding about being reckless. You had never done this before on a case. Despite that, you nod eagerly. You needed this. And something told you that Aaron did, too.

He doesn’t waste any time. Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hands trail up your ribs, going all the way up under your shirt. The feeling of his fingers on your skin set your senses on fire. Heat blooms across your face and your head lolls back against his shoulders as he cups your tits, the rough pad of his thumbs flicking against your nipples. A low grunt from Aaron conveys that he’s grateful for your decision to forego a bra tonight.

Without warning, he pinches your right nipple. The sudden sensation catches you off guard, and you gasp, arching into his touch. He’s barely even started touching you, and you’re already losing it.

“The mirror,” he says suddenly.

The words cut through the haze of arousal settling on your brain. “What?”

“The mirror. Look at it.” You feel him indicate with a nod, and you blink, gaze shifting forward to land on the large mirror across from the bed—one of those standard hotel-room fixtures positioned perfectly to reflect the two of you.

What you see makes heat spread across your face. You, seated in Aaron’s lap, with his arms wrapped securely around your waist. Your face is flushed, and your nipples are pointed through the material of your shirt. Your jaw hangs slightly open, and you’re breathing audibly. You look utterly wanton and at Aaron’s mercy. With a start, you realise his shirt is rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms.

Just the way you like it.

And the way they strained as they caged you against him? Words couldn’t describe how badly you needed him right now. Sensing your desire, Aaron moves faster. In the blink of an eye, he pulls your thin shirt over your head and discards it, exposing your breasts. Large, calloused hands sweep across your body and whispered sighs fall from your mouth.

“Touch me, please,” you beg, desperate for his hands to graze you where you need him the most.

Through the mirror, you watch Aaron as he slowly mouths up your neck, settling on that soft spot behind your ears. Impatience takes over, and you grind into his lap, rubbing your pussy into his hardening crotch. You needed him inside you now, and you didn’t care whether it was his fingers or his cock.

“Patience,” he rasps into your ear, “Or I’m gonna go even slower.”

Your retort burns on your tongue, but before you can do anything about it, Aaron slides his hands under the waistband of your pants. He brushes his fingers gently over your abdomen, taking his sweet time.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good tonight, sweetheart,” he continues. His voice is unfairly composed. You have no idea how his brain is still functioning because yours certainly isn’t. All you can think about is the feeling of his thick fingers, preferably buried inside your cunt.

A prolonged moan slips out of you. You couldn’t give less of a damn about who heard right now.

“Aaron,” you plead, making eye contact through the mirror. He looks so pleased— like a cat that got the cream. And then, slowly— oh, so slowly—his fingers flit over where you needed him the mouth.

“I want you to keep your eyes on yourself, sweetheart,” Aaron commanded, his Unit Chief voice seeping out. “If you don’t, I’ll stop.”

Your breath hitches. You nod. Anything. Whatever he wanted, you’d give it to him. You just wanted him inside of you.

Aaron rolls your pants down in a deft movement, letting his palms rove over your stomach. Thankfully, he decides to put you out of your misery, and slides his fingers into your panties, groaning in your ear as it slips in oh so easily, creating a wet sound. The friction sends you to heaven, and you stretch your legs further apart, too far gone to be embarrassed by how you look in the mirror right now.

“My pretty girl,” he rasps, “You’ve been so good today.”

The praise has you whimpering and you grind down on his palm.

“Didn’t even complain,” Aaron grunts, hooking his fingers inside your gummy walls, “Such a good girl.” You whimper at his words and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck. The way he’s scissoring his fingers in your cunt…

“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re so wet for me right now.”

Aaron continues to slide his fingers in and out of you, ever so slowly but oh so perfectly. You bite your lips to contain the noises threatening to escape you, but when he grabs your tit, rolling a nipple between his fingers, your eyes slide shut, letting the sensations take over.

“I said,” he growls, punctuating his words with thrusts of his fingers, “Look. At. The Mirror.”

Your eyes fly open, and your hips jerk involuntarily, overwhelmed by the feel of his touch. Your body burns in pleasure, and his name falls from your lips, tangled with a soft moan.

“God, you feel so fucking good, honey,” Aaron groans, “I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re so wet. You’re doing so well, baby”

“Please, yes…” you whine back, body arching to beg for more. His fingers are dripping wet with your arousal and you watch them disappear repeatedly into your cunt, making damp sounds. You bite your lower lip to keep your impending orgasm at bay, but just then, Aaron circles your clit with the pad of his thumb.

The cry that leaves you only seems to incense Aaron. He’s fully hard by now, and you can feel his cock straining painfully against your ass. Pleasure clouds your brain, and you can’t do anything but take what he gives you and grind helplessly on his lap. Despite that, you don’t look away from the mirror, watching indulgently as you bounce on Aaron’s hand and he sucks light bruises into your neck.

Aaron keeps circling your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. The coil in your belly is tightening and you can barely even concentrate on the honeyed words he’s spilling in your ears. He continues to work you, pumping his fingers steadily into your pussy.

“Aaron, I wanna cum so bad,” you sob, hovering over the edge. The pleasure is spreading from your clit to the rest of your body, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold on.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers, “Let go.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Your orgasm crashes into you like a massive wave, walls squeezing his fingers tightly. Aaron groans deeply in your ear as you ride out your pleasure, watching you through the mirror. He continues thrusting his fingers inside you, his other hand holding your waist tightly.

Tears prick your eyes, and your body shakes. You take time to come down from your high, but when you do, you can’t even remember why you’d been in such a shit mood today to start with.

Aaron gently brushes strands of hair away from your face, still whispering sweet nothings. His eyes were still dark with lust, but he was looking at you like you’d hung the moon. You lift a trembling hand and wrap your palm around his wrist. Not pushing or pulling, just holding on.

“There’s my girl,” Aaron smiles, holding you close. “Feel any better?”

“Much,” you admit.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, as he peppers your neck and shoulders with kisses.

“Hey, Aaron,” you start suddenly, “I think I know where the sheriff put the evidence.”

“What?” Aaron blinks at you, processing your words. Then, with an exasperated smirk, “You really know how to kill a mood, sweetheart.”

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

#criminal minds #hotchnerwritescm #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #hotchner smut #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x you smut #hotch x you smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 4 months ago

Text

Sugar, Spice, And Starlight

Pairing: Din Djarin xf!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to move to Nevarro to open a bakery the last thing you expected was to fall in love with a grumpy Mandalorian. Takes place following Season 3, after Din moved to Nevarro and has been living there with Grogu. This is just a collection of one-shots that all take place in the same world. Listed in Chronological Order!

Tropes: Mutual Pining, Fluff, Angst, Bakery AU, Soft Reader! Grumpy vs. Sunshine

Warnings: Individual warnings will be in issued in each chapter. The reader is not described any way, but is soft. Din is a little OOC. Please be gentle this is the first time that I've ever written for him.

Where'd You Come From?: An adorable customer wanders into your bakery and introduces you to someone you've never met, who piques your curiosity.

What Is This Feeling?: Din can't seem to stop running in to you, and he can't figure out why he likes it.

Didn’t Anyone Warn You?: When you're tasked with bringing pastries to Parent's Night at the local school, a guest appearance makes quite a stir.

What Did I Say? : A trip to the market takes a turn for the worst when you run into a bounty hunter that doesn't take no for an answer.

What Did I Do?: When your brother drops in for a surprise visit, it has an odd effect on Din that you can't understand.

He's Your What?: When you finally get the courage to confront Din, you find him in a vulnerable position.

What Are We Doing? : Moving is hard, but being in love with your roommate is even harder.

Last Updated On: 06/14/2025

Taglist:

@jollyhunter @scoliobean @pressedwater @littlebear423 @bookloverkat

@scorpio-echo @windsweptarmadillo @foxin5billion @silas-aeiou

@mezzprior @st0nedbitch @elita1 @aegoniipascal @tiedyedghoulette

@flowerydindjarin @carolineesnell @cl0udl3ss-sky

@dotyoureyez @sunflowerfive @fefa-la-printcessa @sonthingwithl

@heartfluttered @alastorfang

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for the Sugar, Spice, And Starlight Universe, please let me know :)

(Photos On Mood Board From Pinterest)

#pedro pascal characters #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x female reader #mandolorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x female reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian season 3

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 4 months ago

Text

Afternoon Appointments

Warnings: SMUT. THIS IS BASICALLY JUST SMUT AND ONLY SMUT AND I WON'T BE TAKING QUESTIONS. MINORS DNI.

There is some fluff. Mated Eris and Reader. Unprotected sex (male and female receiving). Voyeurism. *Breeding?* they're trying to make an heir for the court so it's spice with the intent of getting pregnant. Also mentions of infertility and struggles to get pregnant. Oral, vaginal, fingering, take your pick.

Word Count: 6,201 - my bad.

Honestly, I just wanted to write something a little spicy since I've been drowning in the slow burns, but now I'm considering making this a shorter story as a slow burn palette cleanser, but it depends on how you all like it!

Summary: Eris, your mate, catches you between both of your court duties and is keen on ensuring that no time is wasted between the two of you. After being mated over a decade, you've been trying to conceive an heir, unsuccessfully and are hoping this delightful afternoon reprieve might finally be the ticket.

SMUT BELOW THIS LINE. BE AWARE.

Initially, you didn’t notice him as you walked at a brisk pace through the open-air walkways of the grand Autumn Court Manor. Your thoughts were consumed by the myriad of responsibilities you had planned for the rest of the day—consultations with court advisors to deliberate over a diplomatic journey to the Summer Court, sifting through an overwhelming stack of letters from neighboring villagers requesting a ceremonial visit from you and your mate for the anticipated harvest, and enduring the relentless pleas from courtiers eager to propose another extravagant party that you had little desire to attend.

Your mind was a whirlwind of tasks, repeating them quietly to yourself as to not forget to add them to the ever-growing to-do list in your office that you were oblivious to the familiar intoxicating aroma of woodsmoke and cinnamon that heralded the approach of your mate. Eris.

He was drawing near from the opposite end of the hall, yet your eyes were nearly glued to the ground as you continued to mull over how you were going to respond to the multitude of letters.

You collided with a solid wall of muscle, a soft “oomph” escaping your lips as you stumbled back, your cheeks flushing. “Oh my, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even—”

You looked up, finally realizing who you had so unexpectedly bumped into. Eris was towering over you, gazing down with a teasing smile emerging from him. His lips curled slightly, just enough to reveal a hint of his teeth, while his amber eyes shimmered, capturing the sunlight and making them look like threads of gold spun through them.

You let out a playful scoff, stepping back with a lazy grace.

“No, no,” Eris teased, his voice dripping with charm. “Please, do continue with your heartfelt apology for so boldly running into me.”

You rolled your eyes, a small snort escaping you as you shook you head and then lifted your head back to look at him again. “Oh, believe me, I am soooo deeply sorry for my transgression, my lord,” you drawled, your voice riddled with mock sincerity.

Eris released a rich, velvety laugh that resonated from deep within his chest. “Naturally, my lady,” he replied.

Your eyes fell to the floor as you brushed back the stray strands of hair that cascaded into your face. Eris seemed to sense the immediate shift in your mood. “But honestly, is everything alright, my love? You seem… preoccupied.”

You glanced back up at him, a soft, airy laugh slipping from your lips. “I’m fine,” you murmured with a gentle shrug. “Just jugging a lot of priorities today.”

A mischievous glint lit up Eris’s eyes as he closed the distance between you, maneuvering to press your back against the wall, his hands resting on either side of your face, enclosing you within his presence. “Do you know what’s been preoccupying my thoughts today?”

You tilted your head slightly, peering up through your lashes. “I doubt it’s anything virtuous,” you teased.

Eris’ voice was a sultry purr as he leaned closer, his scent enveloping you in an almost intoxicating haze. “Certainly not,” he whispered, his breath caressing your skin.

His fingers traced a languid path down your face, gliding over your jawline and neck as you melted into his touch. “I’ve been consumed—tormented, really,” he murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear with delicate finger, “by this almost insatiable desire to be utterly and entirely devoured by my mate.”

Your heart fluttered wildly, your breath catching as he leaned down to graze his teeth lightly over your exposed ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Is that so?” You teased, leaning into his soft kiss as he dragged his lips down the side of your ear, nipping at the soft flesh.

Eris responded quietly with a small groan of agreement.

You gently nudged against his chest, wriggling out of his firm hold with a teasing grin. “As much as I regret leaving you in despair, I’ve got a busy agenda today” you remarked, your eyes twinkling as he reached out, grabbing you hand again,” you noted, smiling at him as he reached out and grabbed your hand.

Eris swiftly drew you back against him, his strong arms enveloping your shoulders. “And nowhere on that oh-so-important schedule is a moment to indulge your devilishly charming, handsome mare?” he teased.

You tilted your head up, resting your chin on his solid, sculpted chest, offering him a coy smile. “Sadly, my assistant didn’t book any time for you today,” you replied.

Eris rolled his eyes dramatically, letting out a soft, exaggerated sigh. “I’ll have to have words with that meddling female who seems determined to keep my beautifully enchanting mate just out of my grasp.”

He looked down at you, his smile radiating a warmth that sent a flutter through your stomach. Bending down, he brushed his lips against your tenderly before deepening the kiss with a more fervent intensity. His hands cradled your face, fingers threading through your hair and holding you still in a kiss that was all-consuming.

You didn’t even think about it, moaning softly into his mouth as he enveloped you in another long, shivering kiss. The corridor's dim light cast shadows across the stone walls, cold and unyielding against your back. His kiss caught you so off guard that he had you once again pinned against the rough, cool surface, his hands leaving your face to rest at your hips. His thumbs pressed and kneaded into the soft, sensitive skin, sending tiny shivers down your spine.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers weaving their way into the thick, auburn strands of his hair. Your nails lightly grazed over his scalp, eliciting a deep, resonant groan that vibrated into your open, waiting mouth.

A smile broke through the kiss as he leaned back, his eyes glinting with mischief as he raised a brow. “You’re going to really get me riled up and not let me have a few minutes of your time?” he asked teasingly, his voice a playful murmur.

You didn’t respond with words, just inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, and pulled him back by tugging gently on his hair, drawing him into another deep, consuming kiss. Eris slid his hands beneath your thighs, effortlessly lifting you higher against the wall, as if he needed to be even closer. But as he did so, and you felt the fabric of your dress slowly inching upward, exposing your skin to the cool air, the awareness of your very public setting.

You pressed a hand firmly against Eris' chest while he moved in to plant heavy, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, attempting to gently push him back. "Eris—" you murmured softly, your voice barely a whisper as his hands confidently squeezed and tugged at your thighs, his body rhythmically grinding against yours. When he didn't respond, you repeated yourself, trying to infuse a different tone into your breathless whisper. "Eris—"

He leaned back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intense, smoldering heat in his eyes. "What?" he asked, his breath coming in soft pants. "What is it?"

You glanced anxiously in both directions down the corridor, relieved to find it still deserted and echoing with silence. "Eris, as much as I would love for you to take me right here," you said, your voice a mixture of longing and practicality, "it is the middle of the day, in a very regularly used walkway."

Eris groaned, tilting his head back to reveal the taut, sinewy muscles of his neck, which beckoned you to sink your teeth into. He returned his gaze to you, the corner of his mouth curling into a sly smile. "But doesn't it just amplify the promise that the High Lord of the Autumn Court and his mate are so determined to provide their court with the next heir that they're willing to seize the opportunity at a moment's notice?" he asked, raising a teasing brow.

He wasn’t entirely wrong. For nearly a decade, you and Eris had been trying to produce an heir since your mating ceremony, yet success had eluded you, and the urgency to secure the future of the court with him weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You gave him a rather incredulous look. “My love, even though you have a storied past filled with daring exploits and more brazen partnerships, some of us still have a bit more of an upstanding reputation to uphold,” you replied, your voice tinged with playful reproach.

Eris let you drop down slowly, your feet gently returning to the polished marble floor as he gave you another long, lustful stare. His eyes were like burning embers, filled with a fiery intensity that seemed to melt away any resistance you had left. “I would say that it’s more than proper to truly show just how dedicated we are.” Eris winked, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and then began pulling you down the grand corridor.

You let out a mildly exasperated sigh, the sound echoing softly off the stone walls as he tugged you along. Yet, you followed willingly, unable to ignore the intense need that now roared through your body, urging you forward with a fiery insistence.

Eris led you back into the manor, saying nothing as he walked ahead, his hand firmly clasped in yours. His pace was fast enough, desperate enough, that you had to break into a slight, stumbling jog to keep up with him. Your laughter bubbled up, a soft, breathless giggle escaping your lips as you passed one of his advisors. The advisor attempted to stop and ask him something, but Eris, with a firm yet playful authority, simply said, “It can wait,” before continuing his determined path.

Finally, after ascending a winding set of stairs, Eris pushed open the grand, ornate doors leading to your shared chambers and practically propelled you through the threshold. You burst into laughter, stumbling over the intricate folds of your dress, your hand instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against one of the elaborately carved bedposts, while the other clutched your stomach as you gasped for air amidst your laughter.

Eris followed you through the doorway with a graceful, long stride, pulling the doors closed with a decisive thud and standing before them like a sentinel, his eyes gleaming with amusement as his own laughter slipped from his lips.

He crossed the room in a swift motion, his hands finding their place at your waist, effortlessly lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his torso. Even through the voluminous layers of your skirts, you could feel the undeniable presence of Eris’s hardened desire straining against the confines of his trousers. With a swift motion, you managed to kick off your shoes, sending them clattering across the polished floor as Eris pressed fervent, breathy kisses onto your lips. His hands supported you beneath your rear, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a passionate urgency.

Your fingers returned to entwine themselves in the silky strands of Eris’s hair, each tug eliciting a moan from him as he guided you towards the bed. The mattress welcome your entwined bodies, your legs still secured behind his hips as he positioned himself above you. His fingers worked deftly to loosen your corsets more intricate lacing. You, on the other hand were more successful endeavor to rid him of his trousers, revealing his toned, muscular thighs. Eager to free him from the last barrier, you tugged, begging at him to step back and let himself free.

He obliged, standing back from between your legs, taking his boots and pants off in one swift motion. His erection sprang free, hard, and throbbing in anticipation. It glistened at the tip with a bead of translucent fluid that seemed to invite you to taste it. He was every bit as breathtakingly aroused as you were and the sight of him only intensified your own desire.

As Eris neared the side of the bed again, lustful hunger filled his eyes. Pressing a hand into his stomach, you stopped him momentarily before rising up on your knees and lowering your lips towards his cock. His head fell back as you wrapped around him, gripping firmly while your lips pressed against the tip of his erection. You gave a few soft draws before opening your lips slowly and enveloping just the head of him. Eris let out a few soft moans, wrapping your hair around his fist as if to steady himself while his other hand cupped the underside of your chin, fingers digging into your soft skin as you slowly took more and more of him.

You didn’t often pleasure him in this way. Eris, however, took great pleasure in spending copious amount of time discovering the sweet secrets between your thighs. But today, seeing him so hungry for your touch—it ignited a fire in your that you couldn’t quite control.

As you welcomed him back wholly, you playfully nipped at the tender skin with your teeth, drawing back leisurely while Eris’s grip intensified while another moan slipped from his lips. His gaze found yours as you peered up at him through a sultry veil of lashes, causing his mouth to slacken open, a throaty sigh stammering out. As you carefully tightened your lips around the apex of his arousal, you sucked fervently before letting it escape your mouth with an audible pop.

Eris stuttered out a half formed, “fuc—” his breath hitching in surprise and pleasure.

You licked your lips while casting a glance up at him. Your hands were lost in their own exploration from his chiseled torso down his thighs, sharp nails carving a trail of scarlet lines on his skin as if branding him for your exclusive possession.

“You’re…divine, my love,” Eris groaned when your mouth once again claimed him.

The hum of affirmation that vibrated from deep within your throat sent waves of sensation rippling through him. The intimate sound echoed against his hardness, somehow making him harder as the pace of your movements quickened and the grip of your lips tightened around him.

As you teased him, driving him incrementally closer to release, Eris’ firm grip in your hair seemed more like a barrier. He held you back, preventing you from losing yourself completely in the rhythm. He restrained so that you could only take about half of him in your mouth at a time. You raised your eyes to meet his, his face twisted in delicious torment as you eased off, letting your tongue swirl about his swollen tip. His response was immediate, ragged moans escaping from between clenched teeth.

“What’s the matter, my love?” Your voice was thick with lust, mere inches from his cock as your saliva slicked down your chin. “You don’t want me to suck you off?”

Eris looked down at you from his towering height, chest heaving with anticipation. “Trust me on this, my love,” he rasped out, “my dick hitting the back of your throat nearly sends me to the edge every time. But I’d much rather save it all for more…fruitful purposes.” His words were heavy with lust, his gaze turning feral.

Smiling seductively, you let your lips slide sensuously over his hard cock once again before pulling back slowly. The taste of him lingered on your lips as he withdrew. “And where might that be?” You asked coyly.

Wordlessly, Eris collapsed to his knees before you and claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, tasting himself on your tongue while attempting to unfasten the stays of your corset once more.

He paused for a moment, seemingly needing to concentrate on the task of his fingers before he finally answered. “Well, considering we’re trying for a babe, it feels sinful to not try and seize every chance I can to fill you up.” His gaze flickered up to meet yours, as if silently asking for your approval.

Gifting him with a sultry grin as the corset finally relented, Eris pushed it back off your shoulders and swiftly reached beneath the layers of your skirts. His fingers found your undergarments, tugging the fabric down your legs almost manically. Once they were discarded, he wasted no time in stripping off your gown until you were stripped as bare to him as he was to you. You reclined onto the bed, your knees raised to hide the dripping lust of your core from him, and propped up on your elbows, inviting his gaze.

He drank in the sight of you, naked and nearly begging for him, his own arousal throbbing expectantly in his hand. He gave himself a few rough strokes as his gaze roamed over every inch of you—memorizing each curve, each hollow, imprinting every detail into his mind.

You allowed your knees to gently part, revealing your wet, glistening valley to his ravenous gaze. The sight seemed to push him to the brink of his sanity as he sank back down, his palms tracing a fiery path down your trembling thighs. He gave his lips a quick swipe with his tongue, priming himself for the feast laid before him. As he pressed his mouth down onto your core, he drew out his tongue, dragging it up the full length, groaning at the intoxicating taste. Your head burrowed into the mattress, your spine curving seductively as Eris’s hands made their way to your lower back. His fingers hooked under the crest of you, thumbs kneading into your thighs, rhythmically clenching and releasing as he mapped your body.

His tongue flickered over the sensitive but at your apex, teasingly building you up before dragging it languidly in slow, agonizing laps. Over a decade’s worth of attentive learning—under your patient instruction—had made him an expert navigator of your body. He dipped lower, his tongue teasing at your entrance before spreading you open further with his fingers. His tongue drove deeper within you while his thumb caressed your clit, causing eruptions of pleasure that obscured your vision. Your urgent needs colliding and locking him into place with your tights as staccato breaths escaped from between your clenched teeth. The tightening grip of your legs around him only amplified his ravenous desire. Pushing them away gently to take longer laps with his practiced tongue, he withdrew his finger from its tantalizing dance at the top of your cunt to slowly penetrate you. Two fingers stretched and filled you, breaking what felt like new ground each time. Eris loved nothing more than watching your face in these moments—witnessing the furrowing brow and slack jawed ecstasy as he coaxed you open. “That’s it, my love,” he purred. “Let me open up that tight, sweet pussy.”

His fingers moved faster, eliciting a symphony of moans from deep in your throat as you hovered on the precipice of pleasure. Eris was acutely aware of your body's responses, his thumb strumming your clit in an intimate dance that mirrored the rhythm of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Your hands clenched white-knuckled into the sheets above your head, stark contrast to Eris' hands, which never wavered from exploring your body.

His gaze traced a path from the tips of your fingers down to your toes, which were clawing at the sheets with equal intensity. "Eris, please—" you gasped out in a raw whisper, the words half plea, half demand as you felt him deliberately holding back the climax you craved.

A knowing grin pulled at his lips even though you couldn't see it. “Hold on, my love,” he whispered back, his voice a silky promise in your ear. “Just a bit longer.”

Frustration and need had you biting your lip as you rolled your hips against his hand, trying to coax him into moving faster. But Eris had other plans; he withdrew his fingers completely leaving you achingly empty.

A mournful whimper slipped past your lips as the bed creaked beneath his weight as he stood up. His strong hands gripped your hips and yanked you down closer to the edge, causing an unexpected squeal to rip from your lips which made Eris chuckle deeply as he positioned you just right on the threshold. Curiously, you opened your eyes to find him stroking himself while eyeing the spot he so desperately wanted to be.

Eris had once confessed he could spend hours staring at your pussy with a fascination that bordered on obsession. His fingertips would skim lightly over every intimate crease and fold, committing every inch to memory. Hell, just watching him studying you like that could send waves of pleasure through his body strong enough to push him over the edge.

Now, as he stood at the foot of the bed, ready to claim you once more, you couldn’t help but remember his words. And you knew, without a doubt, that it wouldn’t be a lie to say he hadn’t brought himself to completion just by laying you bare on the bed and gazing longingly down at your spread legs.

You whined again, your body heavy with uncontrollable desire. Eris, tuning into your small groans of longing, cast his glance toward you while still working himself over, his lust-filled gaze meeting yours. “Is this what you want, my love?” he husked out.

Your eyelids felt dense, brimming with an animalistic yearning as you gasped out, “Yes—please gods yes.”

Eris threw you a wicked grin before aligning himself at your throbbing core, easing in at a torturous pace that almost tore a wild scream from your throat. His breath hitched as he delved deeper into you, like he was teetering on the edge of release right there and then. But finally, he was fully sheathed within you, casting a look of pure satisfaction down at you. He stayed rooted deep within as he rocked in and out at a slow rhythm making you writhe beneath him, pleading for him to quicken his pace. “Patience, my love,” he murmured heatedly, pressing his robust hand onto your stomach, anchoring you back onto the bed. “I want to savor this moment, and if I pound into you right now it’ll end way too fucking quick for either of us.”

Your whimper of disappointment morphed into a moan as Eris thrust all the way up to the hilt once more. Every single inch of him was pure ecstasy that filled you more than anything you possible. The first time he'd taken you to heights of pleasure unknown, there was fear realize he might split you in two but with slow seduction and a few heated moments spent priming you with his skilled fingers and sinfully wicked tongue, you knew he was meant for you. He was the only one who fit within like no other could — two pieces of an intricate erotic puzzle.

Eris leaned in, his muscular body arching over yours, his arms bracketing your face as he pressed his heated forehead against yours. He moved deliberately within you, his thrusts slow and purposeful, with each withdrawal almost total before he sank back into you, causing delicious toe curling friction.

Your hands found their way to the back of his head—your fingers threading through his wild hair and pulling him even closer. The growl that vibrated from his chest was raw and animalistic as he kissed you, turning everything slow, making it somehow more erotic than lustful.

You wrapped your legs around his chiseled hips, matching his rhythm. The moment your ankles locked securely behind him, Eris slipped his arms beneath your back and shoulders, pulling you up while he remained buried inside you. A surprised squeak escaped from you, followed by giggles as he rose to his full height—his strong, calloused hands holding you fast against him while he captured your lips in a deep kiss that tasted like sin.

He turned, the muscled strength of his back sinking into the soft surrender of the bed. Your thighs remained possessively wound around him as he shuffled upwards, resting his back against the headboard. You pushed your knees outward to straddle him like a carnal queen claiming her throne, his large hands finding home on the curve of your hips. His fingers burrowed into the soft flesh as he silently urged you to gyrate atop him. His golden eyes locked into yours, his voice dropping into a sultry rumble as he ordered, “Ride me.” A command that you were more than delighted to fulfill.

Sitting back on your heels, your hands wandered upwards to find solace in the tangles of your own hair. You shifted back up and down upon hum. Eris’s hands held court on your swaying hips, not gripping you tightly but savoring the pleasure that each motion evoked as your body slipped tantalizingly through his strong fingers.

Eris seemed to surrender to the pleasure, allowing his head to tilt back in ecstasy. His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly as he gulps of air escaped past his lips. Your hands ventured southwards, exploring the terrain of his chest and abdomen with slow, deliberate strokes. All the while, you watched him—as pleasure etched itself across his face. His mouth fell open slightly open, sporadic gasps and guttural moans filling the silence as you controlled the rhythm.

His hips picked up a primal rhythm beneath him, as if he wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing. The tempo increased steadily as his fingers, imbued with desire, dug deeper into the skin of your hips. His body crashed into yours with a mix of hunger and desperation. His eyes were clenched shut, locking away the paradise he found within. He bit his lower lip hard enough to bring what you thought would be a sting of pain, but it was drowned out by the guttural sounds of pleasure that erupted from deep in his chest.

You leaned forward in response to his urgency, grazing your teeth gentle across the landscape of his neck—a different touch that the harshness of the grip he held you with. In a heartbeat he had taken back control, a male seemingly claiming his territory, pinning you in place as he made love to you.

The delicious friction between your body and Eris’s torso was bringing you dangerously close to the precipice. You could feel the distinct tightening of your muscles, a teasing thrill that started from the nape of your neck, creeping slowly forward, followed by a curious numbing in your toes. Your head sank forward, nestling into Eris’s broad shoulder as your nails clawed hungrily into the flesh of his opposite shoulder. “You’re such a good girl,” he growled in your ear, indulging every contraction in your body. His voice echoed twice as a whispered mantra, “Good girl.” His breath fanned over your ear as he coaxed you further. “Let it go, let my drown in it, my love,” pressing a fervent kiss into your tousled hair.

His words were the potent magic it took to send you spiraling over the treacherous abyss of pleasure, chasing that electrifying wave that coursed through your veins, leaving an unrestrained moan escaping past your parted lips. “I love you,” Eris whispered into your ear, his unrelenting pace continuing as he guided you through the tremors of release until you finally descended into a panting mess.

With desire still twinkling in your eyes, you nibbled at his shoulder, lavishly bestowing him with a sequence of licks and kisses, tasting his salt ridden skin and breathing in the scent of your mate. Eris absorbed every aftershock rippling through you while he kept his pace going, seemingly driven forth by the urgency he managed to elicit.

Another gravelly growl erupted from him before he spun you onto your back once more—this time fueled by something more primal instead of the gentle intimacy before. Lost in the delirium of pleasure, Eris plowed into you with a wildness that would drive you crazy. His body melded with yours—his hips driving recklessly as he cupped your head in his arms protectively. Your teeth grazed along the sinewy column of his neck as he released a low purr.

This time, Eris was teetering on the edge of his own climax as his hips faltered for a moment, catching their rhythm again with an insatiable speed. A sinful symphony of your bodies colliding with one another filled the room. Your legs once against entwined around his torso like a vine, clinging to him like a lifeline.

You leaned closer, whispering your own sweet demands into the curve of his ear, tickling it with your tongue and teasing bite. “Give me a babe, Eris.” The words were like liquid fire to him. His hand traced down your face, as if searching for the tender female beneath the wild one in his arms. His fingers cradled your cheek, the softness of his touch only amplifying the raw passion happening just inches away. “Let me carry our legacy. The heir to the court. The next generation of our love’s lineage.” As if possessed by another rush, his hands relocated from cupping your face to gripping the sheets with white-knuckled intensity as he panted out his lustful need.

“Please, Eris—” you pleaded through gasps and moans. Begging was music to his ears; he found it so damn sexy when you were on your knees pleading for him. “Give me what I want the most.”

Eris lifted his head, seeking out your eyes, to make connection before the inevitable release. When he locked onto your gaze, a shiver ran through him, causing his hips to shudder slightly as his eyes rolled back basking in the uninhibited pleasure. You felt him spill inside you—as if molten heat fused with the lingering aftershocks of your own climax.

When he had finally felt that delightful release, the waves of tingly, bone-jittering happiness faded and he rested his body on top of you. His lungs still catching their breath as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck. He gently brushed his thumb across your cheek, turning your face towards him for a sweet, lingering kiss before slowly pulling out and away, leaving an emptiness in his wake. But when he did, his eyes sparkled with such a genuinely, overwhelming affection, it caught you entirely off guard.

He grinned like he was tipsy. “I love you,” he whispered once more.

You giggled in return, your hand tracing the contours of his angular face and jaw, “I love you, Eris.”

He rolled to one side, his hand lazily wandering down your torso, drawing small, whimsical on your abdomen, where you had prayed to someday grow a tiny life inside.

“I have a good feeling about that one,” he chimed in.

You quirked a brow. “You think this is suddenly the magic one?”

He gave a light shrug, “It definitely felt like it could have been.”

“You always say that,” you teased, snuggling yourself in closer as his fingers danced up your arm, pressing another kiss to the crown of your head.

You laid in silence together for a few minutes, listening to Eris’ heartbeat slow down to the steady thumping you so often fell asleep to, his hands still exploring your body. He always had his hands on you somewhere if he could, like he needed something other than the mental tether that bound him to you, but you didn’t mind it.

You had many dreams about carrying Eris’s child. As his mate, it was one of your expected duties, to produce an heir to carry on the Vanserra lineage, to secure the next High Lordship, or Ladyship, times were changing and you would often tease Eris’ brothers with the idea of his daughter ascending into the position, sending them scoffing and rolling their eyes. But after ten years of unsuccessful attempts, fertility potions, aphrodisiacs, fool-proof positions, and you had no physical, tangible result.

You could picture it when you closed your eyes like looking into a mirror. Eris, standing in the windows of your chambers, surrounded by soft light as he looks down at a small bundle that coos in his arms. He sways lightly back and forth, the gentle breeze from outside pushing his hair from his face as he looks down at his babe with more adoration that any male could have for their child. He looks so at peace. He looks so beautiful. The babe in his arms could never be more deeply loved than by this male, your mate, and you’d given him that happiness.

You were yanked from your daydreaming by a light rapping at the door of the bedchambers—and the unmistakable sound of a male voice on the other side. A hesitant greeting from one of Eris’ advisors. “My lord—” then a pause as though listening for a response. “My lord, we’re scheduled to meet with the chamber of commerce in the next ten minutes.

Eris ran a hand over his face and let out a low growl that might have been an attempt at dramatics or actual irritation, while you burst into a stifled laugh tucked into the corner of his arm. “Be there. Just give me a minute.

The advisor hesitated, then said through the door, “My lord, I must insist we meet with you before the meeting—”

Eris cut him off, raising his voice. “You’re more than welcome to barge in. I will warn you however— that you will get a very full tour of both my body but also my mates. So unless you fancy joining us in the potential conception of my heir, I’d suggest practicing a bit of patience.”

The advisor didn’t reply and you could hear him taking small steps down the hall.

Your laughter burst out as Eris joined in with his deep, hearty chuckle. “You don’t need to torture the poor fellow any more than necessary,” you remarked, leaning up on your forearms.

Eris met your eyes, “If they’re going to work in my home and demand that they be the top of my priority list everyday then I’m going to have to start being more honest with them about what is truly happening behind closed doors.”

Eris gave you a small kiss on the tip of your nose before retreating from the bed. He found his discarded trousers while you rolled back, hugging your knees in what felt like a futile attempt to keep everything inside—a tip from the fertility healer. You rocked slightly on your spine as Eris appeared at the foot of the bed, trousers donned again but his shirt in his fist, leaning over the armoire mirror to fix his hair. He shot you a quick glance before pulling his shirt and vest back on before sauntering over to re-lace his boots.

“Plus,” he went on, “I’d argue this is one of, if not the most important parts of court business right now." Fastening his other boot, he added, “And you, for that matter. So if anyone has problems with how I’m spending my time, I’ll find them in contempt of court.”

You laughed and smacked his arm, earning a smirk in return. He rested a hand on your knee, gesturing to the position you had placed yourself in.

“How long do you have to lay like that?”

With a light shrug, you replied, “I’m not even sure it works, but the healers say I should keep everything inside for ten to fifteen minutes after we’re finished. Apparently, it increases the odds of implantation.”

Eris rubbed your knee slowly, smiling at you. “Do you want me to wait with you? Do you need anything? Water? Food?”

You shook your head, thinking him kind for the gesture. “It’s alright my love, I’ll just stay here a bit longer and then will get up and carry on with the day.”

He looked at you, his eyes full of longing and intense adoration. “I love you, so intensely, it makes my heart ache,” he whispered to you.

“And I you,” you replied as he leaned down to give you another kiss, long and savory.

He stood, walking towards the door and as he reached the doorway he turned and looked back at you, the same sappy, hopelessly romantic expression on his face. “You’re sure you’re okay?” He asked again.

You said with a big of feigned exasperation, “I’m fine, Eris, now go! Or someone is going to get brave enough to come in here.”

His hand rested on the doorframe as he smiled back at you. “I’ll see you at dinner, my love.” He noted and you nodded in agreement before he opened the doors and disappeared down the hall.

What he didn’t know was that part of the fifteen minutes of waiting also included sending out prayers to The Mother to finally let it all fall into place. You had a sinking suspicion that while Eris might be more than happy to take as many years as it needed to have a babe, the rest of the court might not be so patient, and it was your job to ensure it happened.

I need to be spayed. Someone make me an appointment at the vet. It's becoming a problem.

Part 2:

#eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra smut #eris smut #acotar smut #smut #acotar fanfiction

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ominouspuff · 1 year ago

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Kote’s House

Kote’s first house is a pathetic thing, and he is incurably proud of it. The twi’lek he purchased it from very evidently could not make up his mind what to do with a man that grinned while he haggled, but it was the first time Kote had haggled over a purchase of his very own. He had thoroughly enjoyed it.

The house is built for one being, and a compact being at that, but Kote doesn’t have much. Moving in is quick, and most of his efforts during the next few days after go into attempting ambitious repairs for things he doesn’t know the first thing about.

His plumbing is an issue, he knows. Something is getting blocked up. Somehow while trying to fix the kitchen tumbler, his fresher spout explodes.

He hadn’t kept his new house a secret from anyone by any means, but it is still surprising when Fox barges in through his jamming front door. He finds Kote on the floor in his cramped kitchen while the fresher rains water in the adjacent room, laughing so hard and so crippled with delight that he can’t get up.

He tries to explain how wonderful it is —

“I-I have to fix my plumbing on my own, vod—”

—but judging by Fox’s single raised eyebrow he knows it doesn’t translate.

Fox, it turns out, is moving into the neighborhood. Kote doesn’t ask about the house Fox already has — the house he has visited, which is very nice and fancy — or point out that Fox’s contract there cannot possibly be up, which begs the question of why he’s here in Kote’s neighborhood — except that Kote already knows the answer to that question. So he doesn’t ask.

Fox doesn’t show him any grace or forbearance, though.

“Don’t even know how to fix a damn pipe, front lining show-off—” His brother snarls, but it is muffled; his top half had to go down beneath the floor they’d pried up to get at the plumbing issue.

“So that’s what they had you doing all these years.” Kote says, because he really is in a criminally good mood. He barely ducks the foot-long pipe Fox throws at his head, feeling giddy.

He makes dinner that night in thanks. Fox stays, ostensibly because now that he’s fixed the fresher he intends to use it, because his new house isn’t hooked up properly yet to all the supply lines and power grids.

They choke on homemade tiingilar (vode-style; Kote can’t pretend at the real thing yet) so heavily spiced it’s got grit to it that sticks between the teeth. It’s disgusting, but Cody had bought fifteen different spices and while usually he likes to keep his approach to the unknown more cautious, more methodical, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than use them all at once for the first time.

Wolffe joins them not long after; brings a few others along by recommending the apartment he picks out, so that soon most of the complex is taken up by vode, Kote hears, but he doesn’t visit yet. Everyone’s too busy coming over to his house, it seems; filling up his kitchen and asking why he hasn’t fixed the trash disposal yet, why he doesn’t have a couch, doesn’t he know they’re all the rage among civilized folk?

Kote fixes the trash disposal with Rex, who is better at it than he is but says it’s only due to Skywalker’s influence on managing all things mechanical.

“How is Skywalker?” Kote asks, and gets more than he bargained for over the next hour. At first he’s a bit off-put, because he’s trying to get dinner sorted again and he’s not been very fond of Skywalker at the best of times, but Rex is snorting out a story and laughing and it’s contagious, so Kote just resigns himself and settles in to enjoy.

Skywalker has little ones, now. Obi-Wan is the only one that can get them to sleep. Ahsoka is distressed; she knows better, but every instinct in her is apparently in agony over the little ones’ inability to eat meat yet. She obsesses over nutrients in their diet — which, given what tiny natborn humans primarily ingest in the early stages, makes for some slightly awkward conversations.

Rex helps with dinner afterward, and they take turns being incredulous over natborn baby facts, shoving around one another in the tiny, uncomfortable kitchen.

“What’s your next project?” Rex asks at one point, glancing sidelong with a cheeky look, and Kote levels his vegetable knife at him (he’s got a vegetable knife. Specifically for vegetables. It’s a very new concept).

“I make everyone’s dinner on Tuangsdays.” He says. “I’m productive.”

Rex’s sharp-toothed grin turns thoughtful. “Yeah” He says. “Everyone loves coming here, you know. You could be the new 79’s.”

Kote knows. He plans and plots, and puts more work into researching recipes than he’s put into any research whatsoever in months. It feels a bit like coming out of a shore leave; his thoughts quicken and his excitement grows. He hunts down a market. He brings a bag. He shops, bargains, and returns victorious.

He sends out a few comms., and can’t help but shake his head and grin at how different the responses are.

What a marvelous idea, Cody. His general — ex-general — says.

Yus pls, Ahsoka sends back, with some sort of strange tooka vidclip that dances with wiggly gyrations Kote can only assume indicate excitement.

Where is your house, Anakin says, blunt and to the point, and Kote can appreciate that.

He sends the address. He cooks all day. The sun sets, and Fox and Wolffe arrive, already bickering, Rex trailing behind with a long-suffering look sent to Kote, begging commiseration.

“Ugh, don’t you ever stop smiling, now?” He gripes when Kote just grins at him.

“Nope,” Kote says, unrepentantly.

He leaves the soup on the stove, simmering, and takes his cup of caf to the window. He leans on it, breathing in cool air, and just listens — listens to the squabbling as Wolffe gets on Fox’s case for not washing Kote’s dishes correctly the last time they visited. Hears the soft thumps of Rex sneaking into the cramped room Kote has set aside for plants and the sole pet he has; a pastel goullian, fins swaying ever so gently, permanent scowl in place. Thinks he catches, distantly, the sound of his remaining three guests (Padme couldn’t attend, and had made him feel very awkward by how thoughtfully she apologized for it) plodding up the hill.

“Cody!” Ahsoka cries, coming into view and waving.

Kote’s cheeks have stopped aching from all the smiling he’s gotten used to, so it’s easy to let another through.

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retiredteabag · 6 months ago

Text

learning together - Christmas Special

parental Gojo attempts to get Megumi in a Christmassy mood, it appears to be more of a challenge than he thought.

pt. 1

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Ice crystalized the window of Satoru's Tokyo apartment, A thick dusting of snow laid atop the city below, and the house smelled distinctly of mulling spices and his favorite "sugar cookie" candle. But the teenage boy had a deep sense of dread when he remembered that he had no idea what his little pupil wanted for Christmas.

Typically, Satoru did not live with Tsumiki or Megumi; he paid for them to have their own place closer to their school. But with the end of the year came winter break, and a wide gap of time for the children to be home alone. That, and as he so often found himself saying these days,

"It's Christmas!!!!"

Tsumiki would giggle, and Megumi would roll his eyes. This phase had propagated into Satoru's vocabulary ever since the children's last day of class when Megumi had asked on the road out of school,

"Why do we have to go to your place? Can't we just stay at home?"

Tsumiki had glared harshly at the boy and nudged him to be quiet. But Megumi just furrowed his brows and softly whispered, "What?"

Satoru leaned back in the passenger seat of his car, an assistant had accompanied them because 1) Gojo doesn't like to drive, and 2) he wanted someone else to unpack all of the kid's stuff so they could spend that time settling in.

As it would later turn out, Megumi was closely attached to his backpack and refused to let anyone else touch it. Odd kid, that one.

Gojo had grinned then, "Becaauuuse" He began in a whining tone, "It's Christmas! You can't be all alone for the holidays!"

The little boy turned to look out the window, fog had accumulated so he could not view of the passing busy street, he avoided Gojo's covered gaze and squeezed his bag handle. "'M not alone. I've got Tsumiki." He mumbled, resting the crown of his head on the door.

Since then, every time Megumi made some negative comment, be it about: Satoru's overindulgence at cafes, the excessive decorating, or even his hyper attitude, Satoru would reply,

"Megumi, it's the Christmas season, be a little more jolly!"

But it seemed more evident as the days went by that Megumi did not have a jolly bone in his body. That, accompanied by his inability to come up with his wish list for Santa, Satoru was discouraged.

"Santa isn't real, Gojo." The boy would huff, rolling his eyes.

"How do you know that?" Gojo would pout, pointing out that at least his big sister humored him with the Santa stuff.

The boy would just pull his, 'are you really being serious right now' face and attempt to extricate himself from the conversation.

One day, after much time purchasing Sanrio toys, art supplies, lip glosses, new shoes, an adorable tea set, a bundle of DS games, and virtually any other gift he could imagine for Tsumiki, and stowing them away in one of his many walk-in closets, he called the young girl into the kitchen.

Megumi was reading in on of Gojo's guest rooms, avoiding everyone.

"Every time I ask him what he wants he just gets all grumpy and tells me not to get him anything..." Satoru confessed after thanking the girl for her willingness to make a list to Santa that included: A cute plushy or maybe new colored pencils?

Santa would pull through on her requests, of course, but Megumi hardly even said anything about food he enjoyed, let alone anything "unnecessary". Every time Satoru found something the boy might like, he got the image of an upset or disappointed Megumi and felt his stomach drop. The kid was hard to shop for, to say the least.

"He won't complain about anything! I promise, Gojo, he just... doesn't...like asking for things." Tsumiki smiled at her benefactor, so mature. From an outsider's perspective, it would seem as though a little girl was consoling a very oversized child who just fell on the playground and scraped his knee.

"But...Why?" Satoru groaned, looking to the girl for some idea of how to make the boy smile. It was Christmas for goodness sake. "I don't want him to 'not complain' I want him to get him something exciting, something he really wants."

Tsumiki twisted her mouth and twiddled her thumbs, "I think...hmm", she cut herself off, rethinking what she meant to say, "I think he already feels so indebted to you, you know? I think it would just upset him to ask for a present."

Satoru opened his mouth, only to close it a few times. He had no words. Why would a child, a boy who has practically just learned to read, feel as if he owes him something?

It was this event that caused Gojo to switch his mindset. If the boy refused to ask for something verbally, Satoru would use his innate talent of observation to deduce for himself what the boy wanted. He would unearth every little wish inside that emotionally constipated boy's heart.

A day later, Satoru found the kids on the floor in the living room, drawing together by the fireplace. Under closer inspection, it was clear why Tsumiki wanted new colored pencils. The ones she had been using in school were practically nubs, she had to hold them at an odd angle to be able to draw properly.

"Watcha dooooin'?" Satoru strolled into the living room, carrying bags of sweets and tissue paper.

"Drawing!" Tsumiki sang back. Her brother huffed and caged his arms around his sheet of paper. Trying to hide his drawing, he put his head down and scribbled some more.

"Ooooo! That's fun!" Satoru called out, tiptoeing to the master bedroom, "Don't let me bother you, I've got some top-secret Santa business to get up to-" Satoru spun around, turning this way and that in a comical show of 'spying', "You kids better stay out of my room!" He squinted at them, "It's never good to be nosy around Christmas!"

Tsumiki laughed and nodded at Gojo but Megumi made a face that showed clearly what a fool he thought the man was. What he didn't know, is that Satoru had real good eyes, and for the first time all week, he had an idea of how to get the boy in the Christmas spirit.

The image of Megumi's green crayon scrawled across a sketched pine tree stuck out in Satorus mind as he zipped up Tsumiki's coat. "C'mon Megs! The trees aren't gonna pick themselves!"

Megumi hurriedly called, "I'm coming! Just-ugh- gimmie one second!" as he fumbled with his shoe laces.

"Hey buddy, no rush, I can help." Satoru knelt down on the floor, still a head taller than the boy, he bent and tightened the laces.

The boy's eyes twitched, he had stumbled and clung to Gojo's shoulder for a moment before embarrassment flooded him and he huffed.

Satoru stood, patted the boy's head, and ushered them out the door.

On the eve of the big day, and for the first time, it was clear, Megumi was as excited as Tsumiki, though he tried to hide it, his spine was straight, he was wide awake, his hands tapped his lap unknowingly, and he kept puffing air in his cheeks, he could hardly wait to get to Christmas tree farm.

The boy was brimming with anticipation.

As much as Satoru wanted to follow the kids around, pestering them about what trees they liked, he decided to fall back, allowing them to meander and play amongst themselves. Although unspoken, Tsumiki had been trying to help Satoru in bringing her brother out of his shell. It hadn't really changed much outside of learning that the boy liked reading just a bit more than Gojo suspected.

"GOJO!! GOJO!!" The little girl eventually spun around and waved her arms around in the air. "LOOK! THI- This one-" She inhaled deeply, "Don't you think...it's nice?"

Megumi, who had privately been grinning with his sister just a moment prior, was now avoiding his benefactor's eyes, shifting his weight awkwardly while pretending to be occupied by the snow on his shoe.

"Nice? Oh, Miki, I think it's perfect!" He ran around the tree and came to the other side of them, "Only... Megumi? Do you think this one is right as well?"

Tsumiki stood by the tall man now, blinking at the boy expectantly.

"Mmm." He nodded after a second.

"'Mmm' yes? Or 'Mmm' 'let's find a different one'?"

"'Mmm' yes." He stood up straight and decided.

Satoru pumped his fist, "Whooooo! We got a Christmas tree! Oh boy! I can't wait to decorate! Good thing the farm has got some stuff, huh?"

By the time they had wrapped the tree to the top of a staff vehicle and acquired just about every ounce of tinsel and bows the little shop had, the children's noses were pink with cold and the sun was beginning to crest the horizon.

Not too long ago, Satoru had been feeling deep-seated dread around the Christmas atmosphere or lack thereof. Now, as he raced back to the car to start heating the seats, he had a spring in his step.

Satoru, surprisingly, was quite a good cook, unfortunately, they hadn't the time for a homecooked meal when they had important tree-decorating-business to attend to, so they ordered take out and got straight to work.

The three of them worked as a team to adorn the branches with twinkles of silver and velvet ribbon. Satoru had purchased far too many strands of lights so they set aside bunchs of them to decorate the kids rooms.

After taking a moment to back away, they all admired their diligent work. It was beautiful, all lit up and sparkling. Satoru had never felt so grown up. Buying a tree and decorating it himself.

After grinning to themselves, Satoru noticed. Oh, how had he forgotten? It's the most important part!

"The topper!" He groaned. "Ughhhh what are we gonna do...I guess I can go out and buy one..." He mumbled, he spun around, hoping to avoid any sighs of disappointment from the little ones. He looked at the clock on the wall and realized how late it was getting.

Tomorrow was Christmas. Everything was closed. Satoru was just about to suggest making one of their own when Tsumiki spoke up.

"Umm... Gojo... Megumi has something to say." She poked at him with her shoe.

There was a long pause before he spoke, "Well....".

But then he was rushing from the living room. Trapsing his way back to the bedroom he was staying in. Satoru felt awful. He wanted everything to feel like a family event.

"What... was that?" The white haired man began, "Is he... that upset?"

Tsumiki didn't even have time to disagree before the boy was racing from the threshold again, this time, something behind his back. He was huffing and puffing with the effort of his speed.

"What've you got there Megs?" The boy still had his hands behind his back. He looked a bit strange with his elbows bent all weird.

"We can... just use this." He spoke so lowly, it was as though he was ashamed. "If we haven't got anything else."

Imagine Satoru's surprise when the boy, who had been the grinch incarnate since day one, brought out a glass star tree topper. It seemed as though it had been hand painted, perhaps a school project. When did Megumi get this?

It took a moment before the oldest of the three spoke, this seemed to discourage Megumi and he was about to hide it once more, saying, "We don't need to... it's not very good."

"NO!" Both Satoru and the boy's sister practically screeched. "NOT VERY GOOD???" Satoru basically flung himself to his knees to get a better look. His glasses had long since been on his head, but he yanked them off, as though they might obstruct the boy's creation. "IT"S GORGEOUS!"

"You're over doing it..." The boys brows were furrowed. Satoru knew the kid was trying to play it off as if he wasn't happy with the older boy, but Megumi's lips were twitching.

"This!" Satoru tilted his nose to the ceiling, "Is the finest of tree toppers! I do declare! How dare you keep this from us! This is what we've needed all along."

That night, Megumi would lay in bed, recalling how it felt to be lifted so high, setting his little star atop the tree. His teacher in the week prior had loudly told the class to hang up their stars with their family over Christmas break. There was a strange giddiness he felt knowing he was able to use it. To know it was hung up, not hidden in his school bag.

That morning Satoru had woken the kids up early, skipping into their bedrooms to announce that Santa had come in the night.

"Wow. Santa sure does like cookies..." Megumi almost smiled as he pointed out that the sweets on the counter from the days before were nearly gone.

"Right you are Megumi! I like how you think, we'll need to get more!"

Gojo watched as the kids opened their numerous gifts. The both of them seemed quite uncomfortable with the stacks they had laid out at first. Tsumiki jumped with joy after opening the smallest box, a designer set of colored pencils along with a new sharpener. And that, more than anything, made her little brother smile.

Megumi, however, had a harder time accepting his gifts. Christmas evening, after opening new clothing to grow into, book after book, dog toys, and much more. He found himself watching Satoru from the living room as his sister played games on her DS.

"Whatcha lookin' at Megs?"

Satoru hadn't even peered up from the dish sink, but he knew Meg's had been eyeing him.

"Nothing." Megs turned away and watched Tsumiki reach a new level.

Oddly, he felt like crying. Did he not want it to end? Did he feel guilty? Did he wish he had gotten something else? No, he knew it wasn't any of that.

And then it struck him. This felt an awful lot like a family... it hurt him deep in his stomach and sent pricks to his eyes. Satoru, of course, could tell something was brewing in the boy but he just couldn't get him to say anything.

It wasn't until Gojo was tucking Megumi in for the night, (for the very first time) that he asked.

"Well Megs, was it a good Christmas?"

The boy just nodded and pulled the duvet to his nose.

"Did Santa do a good job, or was there something else you were wishing for?"

The thought struck the boy as insulting.

"No. It was seriously too much, Gojo."

"Hey, kid, don't blame me, that was alllllllll the big guy."

"So were all those cookies going missing..." Megs rolled his eyes.

"Now you're getting it." Satoru decided not to push his luck with patting the boys head and lifted himself to his full height. "Well..." he rolled his head over too the door, "I'm going to go say good night to your sister."

It was at this precise moment, just as Satoru was leaving, that Megumi had a wave pass over him. He tried to sit up but it was too much. He forced the words out, shutting his eyes.

"I wish you would s-stay."

After he said it he breathed a huge sigh, as if it was the most challenging thing he's done.

"What was that?" Gojo's eyes were huge, confused. He sped over to the boys bed, kneeling once more, "What did you say?"

It was too hard to get out again. Megumi just shrugged and felt blood fill his cheeks.

"Did you ask me to stay?" Satoru seemed to chase the boys eyes with his head, leaning over into Megumi's space. "Do you mean here? Or... with you? You and Tsumiki?"

Megumi tugged his comforter to his nose once more, hiding the majority of his face. "With us. Like this."

Years later, Megumi would groan every time he would recall this moment, but for now, it was just for Satoru and him, and his warm toned desk lamp.

"Hey, kid, I'm not goin' anywhere."

Satoru smiled but Megumi wouldn't meet his eye.

"'Cause it's Christmas?"

Satoru's smile widened and this time, he did pat Megumi's head.

"Nah, 'cause I don't want to."

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redocity · 8 months ago

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Had a thought, where since buck is a God damn redwood, reader jokingly stands on a coffee table to look down at him and cup his face to kiss him and he absolutely adores whenever it happens

STEP-UP — E.BUCKLEY

you’re not exactly gifted in the height department, so you have to use a bit of extra help to reach your giant of a boyfriend.

evan buckley x short!reader | 1.5k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — oh to stand on a coffee table so i can kiss my tall-ass bf 😔✊

It started really as a one-off.

Buck was all broad shoulders and strong arms, a hulking redwood of a man who seemed to tower over everyone and everything. And you? Well… not so much.

You’d grown used to tilting your head back to meet his eyes, to stretching onto your tiptoes just to kiss him. But that one night, when something in the air felt light, fun, you’d found yourself getting creative.

It had been after dinner, a quiet evening in the apartment, the smell of spices lingering in the kitchen as the two of you moved through your usual routines.

He’d been washing the dishes, his tall, muscular frame filling the small space as you leaned against the couch, watching him.

Buck always made everything look so effortless, even something as simple as cleaning up, defined arms reaching across the surface with ease.

You shook your head, amused at the sight, and thats when the idea hit you.

As he returned, you stepped up onto the low coffee table that sat between the couch and the TV, elevating yourself just enough that when he looked back at you, for once, you were looking down at him.

It was barely half an inch, but you were satisfied.

“Whatcha doing up there?” He asked, chuckling softly, his voice rumbling softly in his chest.

“Just wanted to see what it feels like to be you for once,” you teased, stepping closer to the edge of the table. You were now eye level with him, something that almost never happened unless he was sat down.

He was so tall, so big, that it felt like half the time you were craning your neck just to meet his gaze.

Buck’s grin grew, his blue eyes twinkling as he stepped forward, standing just inches away from you. He wasn’t stupid—he knew what was coming, but he liked to play along. That was the thing about Buck; he had a sense humour to match his size.

You loved that about him, loved that despite his intimidating appearance, he was so easygoing, so ready to engage in your playful moments.

“Well,” you said, cupping his face with both hands, your palms warm against his stubbled cheeks. “This is how it feels to be tall,”

And before he could respond, you leaned in and kissed him. It was soft, tender, and for once, you didn’t have to strain or stretch or find some weird angle to reach him. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were the one with the advantage. When you pulled back, he was still smiling, eyes closed, clearly savoring the moment.

“How’s the weather up there?” he teased, voice low and affectionate.

You laughed, patting his chest. “Nothing but sunny skies,”

Buck hummed out a laugh as his palms splayed over your hips, although he didn’t get to bask in the moment for too long.

“Is that shelf always that dusty?”

—

That had been the beginning of it.

From then on, whenever you were in the mood to mess with him or just wanted to kiss him without feeling like you needed a step stool, you’d find something to stand on.

The stairs, a chair, even a curb if you were out walking. Each time, you’d make some cheeky comment about your newfound height, and each time, Buck would play along, leaning into your touch with a fond smile, like he couldn’t get enough.

It was as if, in those moments, the world shrank a little.

Buck’s usual stature seemed to fade, and the dynamic between the two of you shifted, becoming something even more intimate.

You could see it in his eyes, how much he adored it when you cupped his face and brought him down to your level. He never seemed to mind that you were taking a playful jab at his height. In fact, if anything, he seemed to love you more for it.

One evening, after a particularly grueling shift at the firehouse, Buck came home looking more worn than usual. His broad shoulders were slumped, and there were dark circles under his eyes, the weight of the day’s work evident in every step he took.

You had been waiting for him, curled up on the couch, but the moment you saw him, you knew he needed something to lift his spirits.

Without saying a word, you hopped off the couch and walked over to the stairs, climbing two steps before turning to face him. He looked up at you, tired but curious, his lips quirking into a small smile despite himself.

“Again?” he asked, his voice rough from the long day.

“Come here,” You beckoned softly, your hands already reaching out for him.

He moved toward you, and when he was standing in front of the stairs, you reached up, cupping his face just like you had so many times before.

This time, though, you were gentle, your thumbs brushing over the scruff on his cheeks as you tilted his head up to meet yours.

“I missed you today,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his in a slow, lingering kiss.

When you pulled back, you kept your hands on his face, looking down at him with all the love and affection you could muster. “Rough shift?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply, and when he opened them again, that familiar softness had returned. The exhaustion was still there, but it wasn’t weighing him down quite as much anymore.

His hands came to rest on your waist, holding you close, and for a moment, you just stood there, savouring the quiet between you.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s much better now,”

—

Over time, your little ritual became a balm for the both of you. Whenever things felt heavy, or when the world outside was too much, you’d find a way to shrink the distance between you.

It was a small, silly thing, but it meant something. It was a reminder that despite the difference in your heights, in your physicalities, you were equals in every other way.

You grounded him, gave him something to hold onto when the days got long and the nights got lonely.

One weekend, you found yourselves at a park near your apartment, enjoying a rare day off together.

Buck had insisted on taking you to this spot, one that overlooked the city and had the perfect view of the sunset. As the two of you walked along the path, hand in hand, you came across a low stone wall that lined the edge of the trail.

Without thinking, you hopped up onto it, grinning as Buck looked up at you, amused as ever. You walked along the wall, balancing carefully as he followed alongside you, his hand resting on your hip to steady you.

“Are you ever going to stop doing this?” he asked, though his smile told you he didn’t really want you to.

“Nope,” you replied, hopping off the wall and landing right in front of him. “Never,”

Buck chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled you into his arms, lifting you slightly off the ground as he kissed you.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands held you securely. Even though you were back to being shorter than him, it didn’t matter. In moments like these, there was no difference. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, everything else fading away.

After he set you back down, you rested your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

His arms tightened around you, and you knew, without a doubt, that this was where you belonged. Whether you were standing on a table or two steps up, or just in his arms, the height didn’t matter.

What mattered was the way he looked at you, the way he held you, like you were the only thing in the world that could make him feel whole.

“Love you,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“Love you too,” he whispered back, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

From that moment on, every time you stood on something to kiss him, it wasn’t just a joke anymore. It was a promise.

A promise that no matter how tall the trees grew or how high the flames rose, you’d always find a way to reach him.

And Buck? He’d always be there, looking up at you with that same adoration in his eyes, grateful for every kiss you gave him, no matter how high up you had to go to deliver it.

#9 1 1 #evan buckley #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #evan buckley fluff #oliver stark

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